The next morning, Puck wakes up with a splitting headache, and visions of Berry dancing in his head. Not even good visions, not wet dream visions, not inappropriate visions. He dreams of Berry as a fucking lion tamer in the circus, and him as the fucking lion. Lions are pretty bad ass, they are, but really to be dominated by Berry, Puck's not sure how much his heart could handle. Nobody dominates him, not outside of the bedroom, anyway. He begins to wonder about this whole taming business as he gets out of bed, wandering into his bathroom.
Brushing his teeth, and staring at himself in the mirror, he thinks back to the dream, and attempts an analysis, or one as well as he could at seven in the morning. Berry was dressed as a lion tamer, a top hat with a white shirt and a skirt, an orange skirt. She doesn't even own orange skirts. Puck shakes his head, lion tamers don't even freaking wear skirts, maybe the dream was different than how he remembers. He scrunches his nose, and tries to transport himself back to the dream, correcting her clothes as he falls back in. Berry's wearing slouchy clothes instead, and they're in a cage, and she has a whip, a whip with sequins. Come to think of it, that sounds pretty kinky. He looks around but he can't see past the bars, only catching glimpses of orange through the mirror on the side.
Suddenly, he hears the roar of the crowd and he feels himself grin. He's the center of attention, just like he's always wanted. There's no superior best friend, Puck isn't hidden in the shadows. He opens his mouth to thank the crowd for their adulation, there goes another one of Berry's SAT words again, but instead he hears a roar. He looks around, surely the roar must be coming from a direction. Still, the crowd continues yelling, and Puck is still shaking his head frantically. He looks at Berry, her coming closer with the whip in her hand, and he becomes lost in his own thoughts, the sound of his own roaring. Ah, shit.
Spitting out the toothpaste, pushing the dream further out of his memory, he resolves that there's only one solution. He has to break up her. He can't do this relationship shit, studs do not do relationships. He wracks his brain, trying to come up with studs who live happily ever after, and he can't. Putting on his determined face, he walks out the door, this has to be done. It may break her fragile heart, it may even elicit a tear on his end but this shit has to be done.
Driving up to her house, he's mentally preparing a speech. The usual, it's not you, it's you, all of the regular boring shit that guys say when they know it's really her, and not him. He's never actually had to give the talk before. Most girls aren't stupid enough to assume that having sex with him leads to love and flowers. Getting hyped up, he fails to notice her hopping into the truck until she slams the door with extra force.
"Here." She sticks out a croissant, and a cup of coffee and he blinks at her in a quick succession, forgetting to yell at her about slamming the door. Taking the items from her, he puts it on his dashboard, and continues to stare.
"A simple thank you would be sufficient, but I know you're a man of few words."
Putting the keys back into the ignition, he puts the car into drive, and decides breaking up with her is going to be more difficult than he originally thought, especially if she brings him breakfast.
Arriving at school, he realizes she hasn't uttered a single word since he picked her up. Now she's not talking. First it's the breakfast, now it's the silence. She's doing this on purpose, as if she reads minds. She knows he wants to end things and she's been all cool about it, she's using that reverse psychology bs on him by anticipating what he wants. Grabbing her wrist to prevent her from hopping out of his truck, he motions for her to close the door.
"You haven't said a single word. Usually, you're rambling miles a minute."
"I'm not a morning person. I also do not believe in the wasting of words."
"Oh, please. You're always off on some hour long ramble, using too many words and wasting that fine mouth if you ask me, and as far as I know you're totally a morning person. You're always on that treadmill or whatever the hell it's called at six in the morning sharp."
"You have a valid point. However, the purpose of my exercise routine each morning is to prepare myself for the day, and it's a rigorous routine. Hence, I find myself mentally and physically exerted until about lunch time, and how do you know what I do at six in the morning? Have you been spying on me?"
"I see you on my jogging run. I observe quietly and not as creepily as someone else would."
She sticks her hand on his face, clasping his cheeks to make his face into a fish, moving his face back and forth.
"You do that again, and I'm going to let the dogs loose on you."
"I didn't even see anything through the window, Berry. Also, don't make shit up about dogs. You have two cats. Three, if you count yours."
"Voyeurism is creepy, Puck. Also, I will ignore your vile euphemism, because my response would be unfit for a lady. Be as it may, I have two cats, and both are very proficient guard dogs. PJ, in particular, has a rather nasty stare, I've noticed."
"PJ?" A self-satisfied smirk hovers on his lips. She did name the Cat after him.
"Yes. Puck." Her voice trails off when she realizes what she is about to reveal.
"You do call him after me."
"Do not."
"You call him PJ. Holla."
She rolls her eyes, and lugs out several bags of clothing, and he shudders when he sees a top hat stick out. Giving her the once over, he realizes she's wearing white and orange, and he's horrified. Very, very horrified. How did he not see her outfit when she sat down in his car? He wouldn't have given her a ride and by extension, this day never would have had to happen.
Trying to play it subtle, he hopes today isn't the day his dream, the dream about being orange and locked into a cage, comes to life. Honestly now, why can't his other dreams about naked Sports Illustrated models and threesomes come to life? Why does it have to be Berry, and her clothes?
"What's the bag for?"
"My Glee routine."
"We have routines today?" What kind of routine involves hats?
She nods, acknowledging the faint surprise in his voice. "You would know that had you ever paid attention."
"Whatever, what's your song? Can it be a duet?" Mr. Schuester's going to be pissed once he finds out Puck is unprepared, again. He'll just have to hitch onto Rachel's wagon, and the problem will be solved.
"Yeah, it's called mind your own business. I refuse to let you participate with me because you're too lazy to take the extensive time and research to prepare.." She continues lugging the suitcase along, and he wonders if she's hoarding gold.
"But I'm your boyfriend."
"We've been dating for less than twenty fours, it's not even that official yet." She shoots him a worried glance, noticing the evident whine in his tone again. "Your voice sounds nasally when you begin to whine. Are you sure you don't need something for that? I have several in my bag if you need."
His eyes narrow as he declines her offer of decongestants, again, and resolves something to do about the hitching whine that tags along when he wants to ask her for things. He needs to sound sexy, seductive. He does not need to sound like a mini toddler hyped up on helium.
"Where are you going?"
He frowns. "What do you mean, where am I going?"
"This is the direction of my locker, Puck. Not yours, since you rarely attend classes that would contribute to your education."
"Yeah, I know. I'm walking you there."
"What for? I'm a strong, independent woman, fully capable of walking to my locker on my own. I have done it before, you know."
"Just let me walk you to your locker, damn it."
She links an arm through his, and smiles. "Okay."
Dropping her off, Puck turns to walk away when he hears a slight roar, and spins himself back around, seeing and hearing Jacob cozying up to her locker.
"Roar, my gorgeous girl. My pants have agreed you're looking rather fine this morning, especially in that orange skirt. You don't even need a whip to have me on my knees. In fact, if you would kindly take my arm, I could tell you about my dream last night. Not even tell you, I'm sure you're going to be begging me for a demonstration."
Rolling his eyes, Puck stomps back, and slams Jacob into a locker.
"Leave my girlfriend alone, weasel."
"I can't. I had a dream about her last night where she was taming me, and she had a whip, and it was the sexiest thing ever, and I'm getting turned on again. Be careful of my pants."
"Don't dream about her, either. The only person she can whip is me, not your shriveled face."
Jacob nods. "Can you put me down now? I have items to attend to." He nudges Puck in the ribs. "I'm sure you know what I mean."
As Jacob moves to scamper off, Puck turns to look at Rachel.
She kinks an eyebrow. "Whipping? Really?"
He plops a kiss on her forehead. "Does this mean we can take whipping under consideration too? At least let me have that, if not the carpet."
Leaning in, she places her hands around his waist, her fingertips lightly skimming his lower back. Standing on her tip toes, she leans in, her breath warm against his ear. He starts to think this is the moment where he's fucked, and he's not going to be able to break up with her.
"No." She kisses his lips, and he feels her laugh as she walks down the hall, away from him. He shakes his head, and tries to pump himself back in the game. He has to break up with her before he loses his balls, and is going on tampon runs for her.
The day passes slowly. Every time Puck looks at the clock, he feels as though it's unchanged. He doesn't see Rachel for the rest of the day, attending class cuts into his naps. Wandering into Glee, he drops himself down on the chair, and notices the girls are missing.
"Where are the girls?" He asks Finn, expecting an answer but unsurprised when he doesn't receive one. He begins to hear circus music, and he's about to flip the fuck out. His dream is coming true, the opening sequence of his dream is coming fucking true.
Oh my God, Puck thinks, catching a glimpse of Berry, sandwiched between Santana and Brittany. Oh my fucking God. She is wearing a top hat, and a white shirt, and he can totally, totally see the lacy fabric of her bra underneath it, and she's wearing the orange skirt she had on earlier, hiked up a little.
He's not surprised when he hears her be the first to sing, and not surprised when he feels his pants tighten.
there's only two types of people in the world
the ones that entertain and the ones that observe
well, baby, i'm a put on a show kinda girl
don't like the backseat, gotta be first.
He can only watch as the girls arrange themselves into position, and he's pretty sure his jaw is hanging open, and drool is covering the floor. The girls separate, and walk over to each boy of their choosing, and he's anticipating Berry, when Berry is paired with fucking Mike instead, and he gets fucking Santana. She attempts to move his hands onto her, as she sits on his lap, and he pushes her hands away, craning his neck to the back of the room to see what Berry is up to with Mike. If anything happens, he's going to pummel that kid's face in.
i'm like the ring leader, i call the shots
i'm like a fire cracker, i make it hot
when i put on a show
i feel the adrenaline moving through my veins
spotlight on me and i'm ready to break
better be ready, hope you feel the same
He hears the crack of the whip, and he is definitely going to ask her to use it later, but then his grin falls. Fuck. He thinks. I wanted to break up. Gulping, he decides he'll enjoy the performance, persuade her to use the whip, and then break up with her.
all eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus
when i crack that whip, it's just like a circus.
At that moment, the girls begin to play musical chairs, and Puck gets Brittany, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Berry get Hummel, and if he wasn't so pissed over this, he would be dying of laughter right now.
there's only two types of guys out there
ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared
so baby, i hope that you came prepared
i run a tight ship so beware
As the girls assume the front of the room again, he can only hope he's not being too obvious by staring. Seeing the girls dance, he's still shocked that Rachel is that flexible, Puck can't tear his eyes away, and then realizes Finn is staring too. He clamps his hand over Finn's eyes, and doesn't flinch when Finn swats it away, simply putting it back after Finn knocks it off.
Five times of hand swatting later, the performance is over, and Puck sits there, shocked. That performance was hot, and if it wasn't for Finn eying Rachel, Puck would have been able to pay more attention. He wonders if he can sweet talk her into a repeat before he breaks up with her.
"Dude, what the hell was that? You were covering my eyes during almost the entire performance."
Puck shrugs, a small shake of his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about. You need to catch up on your sleep."
Finn starts poking at Puck's chest. "I have plenty of sleep, you covered my eyes!"
"Stop jabbing me, I didn't even do anything."
Finn is about to say something else, or maybe use his fists for more hitting, when Rachel bounces over, and sits on Puck's lap, interlocking her hands behind his neck.
"What'd you think?"
"I don't know, I didn't see much of it. This jackass was closing my eyes."
Rachel and Puck turn to look at Finn, an odd expression on her face. Turning to look back at Puck, she tilts her head, waiting expectantly for an answer.
"Better than my dreams, baby. Better than my dreams."
She grins, and his thumb circles the underside of her neck.
"Come on tiger, I'll give you a ride home."
Driving her home, he finds himself catching glimpses of her reading school work out of the corner of his eye. Pulling into her driveway, he decides it's now or never.
"Berry."
She doesn't look up. "Yes?"
"We should break up."
He waits for her to say something, anything, to throw a fit or three but she doesn't say anything. She's creepy silent, creepy creepy silent.
Absentmindedly, she begins to pat his head while keeping her eyes focused on the pages of science material in front of her.
"You just have the twenty four hour itch."
He looks at her, and smacks her hand away. He's not a dog she can pet. If she didn't know any better, she would have said he just growled at her.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
She decides to play dumb, thinking the show is much more fun this way. There's no way she's breaking up with him, and she'll destroy her gold stars before she lets him break up with her. Not after twenty four hours, anyway. She has less of a reputation than he does but a girl needs to keep her dignity.
"I don't know, Puck. What do you think I'm saying?" She tries to put on her most innocent face, which becomes difficult because she's biting the inside of her cheek to contain her laughter. She tries to keep the gleaming laugh out of her eyes, so she looks anywhere but him.
"You said, you just said I have a fucking rash."
"No, I didn't. I said you have an itch. Now, who can't be specific? Et tu, Puck?"
He throws his hands in the air, fuming at her inability to understand the seriousness of the situation. At this rate, he's never going to get laid in this town again. He waits for her to speak, the minutes elapse between them slowly. After several minutes, she breaks the silence creeping into the car.
"I just meant that you're not used to be in a relationship, and neither am I, but I'm more adaptable to change, and you're not so you're not used to it. Hence, the itch."
He nods in understanding, not that he actually does. He doesn't understand why she has to keep saying itch.
"How do I get rid of it? I feel all different inside. It's creeping me the fuck out."
"We have to break up."
"But it's only been twenty four hours."
"Exactly. How astute of you."
"I don't think I want to break up, not after a day. I'm not a freaking quitter. I guess these feelings are just going to have to move the fuck out."
Her ears perk up. "I think that's a splendid option. They didn't even pay rent."
Getting ready to get of the car, she sticks out her hand for him to give her a high five.
"What was that for?" He asks, talking to her through his window, his palm still tingly.
"We made it through our first day."
He smiles, watching her walk away. "Don't forget to add a gold star on your calendar for fucking awesome achievement."
Walking backwards, she salutes him. "Will do, captain."
AN: Thank you for all the reviews, you guys! You're all made of fabulous, fabulous win. Please let me know if you have any suggestions, or criticisms. The song used is Britney Spears 'Circus.' (Muchos gracias to DemonicHime for the wonderful idea of the lion tamer)