A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I appreciate them. Happy holidays to those who had a holiday to celebrate – I hope it was a great one. I had a lovely, white Christmas – first time in my life, I swear.
Just so you guys know, I got a little bored writing this chapter, so I took a break and wrote the majority of the last chapter (well, maybe second to last – there will probably be an epilogue). I hope you guys will stick with me until then, because I really enjoyed writing it, and I think you'll enjoy reading it. But enough about that – on with the show!
Just because Rachel is carrying Puck's baby and kissing him regularly, that doesn't give her permission to boss him around, and it definitely does not give her permission to touch the radio in his truck, especially when he's just landed on his favorite radio station. He knows what she's about to do, and though he generally avoids hitting girls (and, grudgingly, he'll admit that Berry is a girl), he slaps her hand away from the volume dial before she can adjust it. Sometimes these things just have to be done.
"I find it incredibly sad that you are so insecure about your sexuality that you must resort to listening to this testosterone-soaked garbage," she sniffs. "It's awful."
"Not everyone listens to show tunes, Berry."
"Which is a shame, really." She pulls out her bubblegum pink iPod and smiles hopefully. "I just added a fabulous cast recording of...."
Puck can feel his manhood shrinking at the thought of listening to a cast recording of anything, so he quickly shuts her down. "Driver picks the music. When you start carting me around, we'll listen to whatever you want." Not true, but it's not like he has to worry about it for now.
"I would most certainly drive if I could, but I can't, and you know that."
"Works out well for me, doesn't it?"
He turns the music up now, and Rachel makes it a point to wince dramatically, which brings a smile to Puck's face – he's learned that there is a very fine line between hilariously angry Rachel and frighteningly angry Rachel, and he's becoming more comfortable balancing between the two (because there is no middle ground).
"A bit of culture wouldn't kill you, you know," she huffs. "Have you ever even seen a Broadway production?"
"Not a one, and I think I'll keep it that way."
She gives him a withering stare before turning to face the window. She stays this way until the truck starts slowing to a stop.
"What are you doing?"
Puck pulls to the side of the road and puts the truck in park, then turns to Rachel, smiling devilishly. "Trade places with me," he says, already halfway out the car. When he gets to her side of the vehicle, she hasn't budged.
"Berry, move it."
"W-what? Why?"
"I'm going to teach you how to drive."
Rachel snorts (which she realizes is not particularly lady-like, but honestly, the absurdity of this situation is just too much to bear). "Funny. Get back in the car."
"Move over and I will."
"Noah, no. It's unsafe. I could kill us. It's illegal. These kinds of things go on permanent records."
"Only if you get caught," he replies, opening the door. "Come on, it's freezing out here.
She grabs the door to pull it shut, but he grip his steady and it doesn't move. "This is a bad idea."
"People say that about most things I do, but I've turned out alright."
"That's debatable," she murmurs. "You're not going to give up on this?"
"Probably not."
Rachel yanks her seatbelt to the side and drudgingly climbs out of the seat, as if it's an incredibly draining task (it is, but only for her ego). She is usually the one telling other people what they're going to do, and she can't say that she enjoys being on the other side. She glares at him, then realizes that maybe she shouldn't do it so often, because he's completely unfazed.
Puck adjusts the seat so that Rachel can actually reach the pedals, then he hands her the keys.
"You just stick this in…"
"I know how to start a car," she says, putting the key in the ignition and turning it. The truck starts, and she shifts from park to drive, but keeps her foot steady on the brake. When Puck raises his eyebrows, she scoffs. "It's not hard to pick up on these things. However, my knowledge ends here. As hard as it is for me to say this, you're going to have to tell me what to do now."
Puck is delighting in this, she's sure.
"Just ease up on the brake, then steer the wheel left, but not too far – it doesn't take much."
Rachel nods slowly, going over the instructions a few times in her head before trying.
"Now give it some gas."
She takes a deep breath, then taps the gas pedal. The car jerks a bit, causing a small squeak to escape her lips as she slams on the brakes. A light blush creeps across her face when he starts laughing. "It's not funny."
"Sorry," he says, even though he's not. "Try it again, and don't scream this time."
"You are so obnoxious," she growls. "If it wouldn't kill me, I'd drive this stupid truck into the lake."
"Well, since that would require you reaching speeds of over ten miles an hour, I'm not really concerned."
She purses her lips tightly, then presses lightly on the pedal. The truck jumps again, but it's not quite as rough as before. She inhales sharply as they gain speed. This isn't so bad.
"Turn left there," he says, gesturing toward an upcoming intersection.
"Oh, I'd rather not turn just yet," she replies, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than before. "Can we keep going straight?"
"Sure, if you want to drive right into the police station parking lot. What were you saying earlier about permanent records?"
Rachel's eyes grow wide, and Puck smirks. "Start slowing down, then merge into the turn lane up here. There's no arrow, just a green light, so you have to yield before you can actually turn."
Rachel does as she's told, and soon they're sitting in the middle of the intersection, waiting for a clear chance to turn. "Okay," Puck says. "You should be good after…"
Before he can finish the sentence, Rachel is turning – directly into oncoming traffic. In a moment of panic, she presses the gas pedal as far down as it will go, and the truck flies through the intersection, narrowly missing several cars. Horns honk all around them, but they can barely be heard over Rachel's screaming in horror and Puck screaming obscenities.
"What the fuck was that, Berry?!" he cries, fairly certain she's just shaved twenty years off his life.
"You told me to turn!"
"I told you to turn when it was clear!"
"I thought it was! I have depth perception issues!"
"I'll say! Christ, you almost killed me back there!" He clutches his chest, wondering if he's about to have a heart attack. "Pull over."
"Gladly," she spits, roughly yanking the steering wheel to the right, causing Puck to fly against the door. "And this was your idea, by the way, so if anyone almost killed anyone, it was you who almost killed me." She slams on the brake and quickly shifts it into park, before exiting the car in a huff. Puck expects her to resume her rightful place in the passenger's seat, but instead, she starts down the sidewalk.
"What are you doing? Get back in the truck."
"Never." She starts walking faster now, her arms drawn close to her chest. It's incredibly cold for late November, and she's kicking herself for not thinking to grab her jacket from the truck before storming out. She's also annoyed that she didn't think to throw his keys out the window or something, because now he's following behind her in his truck, and there's no way she can get away.
"Am I going to have to chase you every time you get pissy about something?" he calls from the rolled down window. "I don't even know why you're upset!"
"You don't have to chase me – I'd rather you didn't, as a matter of fact."
Puck rolls his eyes. If she doesn't want to be chased, she wouldn't be running away from him. "Get back in the truck."
"I'm not getting back in the truck."
"You are getting back in the truck, Rachel, I swear to God, if you don't…"
"What? What will happen if I don't get back in the truck? Enlighten me, Noah." Her tone is challenging and rebellious – something he'd more likely hear from himself, not her.
Puck hadn't really thought that far. He grasps for something to say, but he's got nothing. "Just…get back in the truck, okay? I'll drive and you can listen to your shitty music and…"
He's cut off by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She glares at him pointedly, muttering about how it had better not be him, because that wasn't funny the first time and it wouldn't be funny this time (he would like clarify that it was actually hilarious the first time). He's surprised by how quickly the anger dissolves from her voice when flips the phone open and answers quietly. "Daddy?"
She's on the phone for several minutes, and Puck feels like he's intruding on a private moment, even though he can only hear half the conversation. He rolls the windows up to lessen his guilt, but he can still see her, and it's uncomfortable. He would just leave, but that would constitute abandoning his pregnant, kinda-sorta girlfriend in the cold without a ride, and he's decent enough to know that that's not cool.
She eventually closes her phone and slowly makes her way toward the truck. She opens the door and smiles sheepishly. "I'm ready to get back in the truck now, if I am still allowed."
Normally Puck would make some sort of joke here, but kind of senses that this isn't the time. So instead, he just shrugs. She takes it as a yes and climbs in.
"Want me to take you home?"
She nods. "Daddy's making dinner, and our presence has been requested."
"What? No! I never agreed to dinner, Berry."
"They want you there, Puck. I guess you don't have to stick around, but how would that look? I realize that other people's opinions about you is not exactly high on your list of concerns, but you're stuck with me for the next eighteen years, and therefore by extension, you are stuck with my parents. The impression you make right now will shape your relationship with them for them forever."
Puck groans. Dinners with parents are the worst. Not only does he have to stop himself from mentioning anything regarding their daughter's boobs, but he also has to worry about fucking table manners and the possibility of being purposely poisoned.
"Daddy's really not that bad," she adds. "Once you get to know him."
"It's not Daddy I'm concerned about," he replies. "It's your dad. I think he's going to murder me."
Rachel laughs. "Dad? No! Dad is sweet. Dad is harmless."
Dad is not harmless. Five minutes alone with the man and Puck is most certain of this fact.
He can't believe that he's gotten himself into this situation – he really did walk right into it, though, so perhaps this is what he deserves for being such a fucking dumbass. When they arrived back at her house, Rachel went to find Seth, leaving Puck and Pete alone. This is where things went awry. He should have excused himself to the bathroom or something – anything to avoid being alone with Pete. But then he thought about what Rachel had said about relationships and first impressions, and he figures he has a lot of damage control ahead of him, seeing as how the first time her dads ever saw Puck was just before Rachel's big announcement. So instead of finding a hiding place, he tries to talk to the guy.
Definitely the biggest mistake of his life, and it's all Rachel's fault. Figures.
Pete leads him up the stairs and through the first door in the long hallway. Large bookshelves make the room seem smaller than it is. He gestures to an overstuffed chair, asking Puck to sit. Pete leans against the dark, oak desk. They lock eyes and stare in silence for several seconds.
"Please forgive my assumption," Pete eventually says. "but is it correct to conclude that you are Rachel's boyfriend?"
Puck thinks about his reply carefully. Does he admit that they've only been on speaking terms for a week and a half? Does he mention the possibility of exclusive kissing? What would happen if he were honest about the fact that Rachel was practically a one night stand, considering the duration of their relationship? He suddenly sees flashes of his funeral (closed casket, because his killer actually ripped his entire face off) and decides against all of this.
"Me and Ber…err, Rachel have been dating for six months. We're very…serious."
It's a lie. A big, huge lie. He's not sure that's what he planned to say, but that wasn't it. Lying to authority figures is a habit that's hard to break.
"That's interesting, because the only time Rachel ever mentions you is when she comes home with new clothes on. You like to throw snow cones at her, is this correct?"
"Slushies, actually," he replies. "It's, uh, it's just a game we play. She slushes me all the time." He laughs quietly at this, because Berry could never slush him, even if she wanted to. There's an art to it – it takes months to master. "I'm not sure why she hasn't mentioned me. I guess that's something you'll have to ask her about."
That's the ticket. Put it off on Berry.
"I see," Pete replies evenly, folding his hands in his lap. "You'll have to excuse my lack of originality here, but what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?"
God, Puck hates this question. Usually because all he intends to do is have sex. Things with Rachel are kind of different, though, thanks to the little soon-to-be spawn.
"Well, I'm here, aren't I? I plan to do whatever I have to do. I'll stick around."
Pete seems less pleased with this answer than Puck had expected.
"Rachel has a lot of potential," he says. "You may not have noticed, but we have very specific ideas about her future, and despite this admittedly large roadblock, we do plan to keep her heading in that direction."
"Cool," Puck shrugs, unsure of where this is going.
"I guess what I'm wondering, Noah, is what your plans are? Unless you can attend school and eventually work in New York, your support might be…more of a hindrance. Do you understand what I'm saying?
"You're worried that I'm going to hold her back, or whatever?"
"If I can be frank, yes. Now, please don't misunderstand me. I'm not telling you to stay out of her life – I can't do that. Rachel makes her own decisions, and if she wants you around, then I'm not going to overrule that. But I do hope that if you truly want the best for Rachel's future, you will do everything in your power to help her achieve her goals, even if that includes removing yourself from the equation."
For one of the first times in his life, Puck is at a loss for words. He hangs his head slightly.
Before either of them can make another move, Rachel taps on the doorframe before letting herself in. "Dinner is ready. What are you two doing up here?"
"Just getting acquainted," Pete says with a smile. He claps Puck's shoulder as he rises to his feet. "Let's eat."
The table, which easily seats twelve, is set for a feast, and Puck briefly wonders how in the world they could have put something together this fast – then he remembers that they're Jewish, and if Jews know anything, it's how to eat in times of stress. He waits for Rachel to sit and then quickly grabs the chair next to her. He really doesn't want to risk sitting next to either one of her parents.
Dinner is tame, and Puck has a feeling that it's normally not. Rachel seems eager to engage the group in enthusiastic conversation, and she's met with monosyllabic replies (he almost feels bad for the jabber-mouth). It's easy to see that her parents are hurt, even though they're putting their best face forward. He can't really blame them, since he's still a little shaken up about the whole situation, despite having a week to process it – they've known for a paltry four hours. He's surprised that they're being as nice as they are, really – he's pretty sure his mother will give him the silent treatment for at least a month after she finds out (which will be never, if he has his way).
By the time dessert is served, Rachel looks as if she might have a nervous breakdown, Seth has come extremely close to crying several times, and Pete is gripping the table so hard, his knuckles have gone white. This was probably not the best idea, and he's not sure how he's the only one who sees that. He's got to get out of here.
"You know," he begins. "this has been…really, really great, Mister and, uh, Mister Berry, but it's getting late, and…"
"It's 8:30, Noah," Rachel replies.
"I've got homework, though. You know, math homework."
"You haven't attended a math class in two years," she whispers.
"Exactly. I have a lot to catch up on."
"You are not leaving." She's barely whispering, but her tone is sharp.
"It is getting late, Rachel," Pete says. "We should probably wrap this up anyway."
"But we've hardly even…"
Seth stands and begins to clear plates from the table. "It's been a long day, honey."
Pete rises from his chair as well, and soon the two of them disappear into the kitchen.
"Look what you did!" Rachel hisses, dramatically pushing her chair away from the table.
"Oh, yeah, because things were going great before," he says with a snort. "That was horrible. I want to go hang myself, that's how depressing the past hour has been."
"Well, it's not like you didn't play a part in that. You didn't say a single word!"
"Were you too busy listening to your own voice to realize that no one said a single word, except for you?"
Rachel scoffs and opens her mouth to speak several times, before setting her face in a steely glare. "Goodnight, Noah."
"I don't really have homework – well, I do, but I wasn't planning on doing it. Do you want…"
She walks wordlessly out of the room, toward the front door. When she pulls it open, a rush of cool air fills the room. "I said goodnight."
There are a lot of things happening in Puck's life that he didn't expect – he's in the fucking glee club, for God's sake. He sings and dances with total freaks, and he doesn't even hate it. And of course the whole Rachel Berry is pregnant thing – that was definitely not something he had in mind. He also didn't imagine that he'd ever go without sex for two weeks, but first he found out about the baby, and that really takes it out of a guy, and then he got all stupid and told Berry that he'd date her or whatever, and she's too busy yelling at him and barfing every ten minutes to get it on.
Another thing that never crossed his mind was the idea that if Berry chose to ignore him for, say, an entire school day, it would drive him absolutely insane. What kind of alternate universe is this? Three weeks ago, he'd be throwing a damn party if she left him alone for a whole day. Now, here he is, sitting in the choir room twenty minutes before Glee rehearsal is supposed to start, because she always comes in early to do vocal warm-ups and shit, and he hopes that if they're alone, she'll start talking to him again. God, he's fucking whipped already.
Just as he expected, she shows up long before the rest of the group is scheduled to arrive. When she seems him sitting in the corner, her expression shifts from slightly pinched and annoyed to very pinched and annoyed, and it appears that she briefly considers turning around, but then changes her mind. She walks past him without a word, and finds a seat on the opposite side of the room.
"You're going to talk to me eventually, you know." He's sitting next to her now, draping an arm across her shoulder.
She narrows her eyes until they've practically disappeared, and shrugs his arm away.
"I actually didn't realize that you were physically capable of keeping your mouth shut for more than thirty seconds. Is this painful for you? Did you have to practice?"
Her right leg is bouncing nervously. Puck knows she's wavering. Time to go in for the kill.
"So, I watched that musical last night – you know, the one you're always freaking out about? The one about all those freaks in New York City? Shit almighty, Berry, I knew you were a total freak but I thought you were better than that. People paid to see that crap?"
She's staring at the ceiling now, and he thinks she might draw blood if she bites her bottom lip any harder.
"I mean, the lesbians were pretty hot, I'll give you that. But otherwise? It kind of made me want to kill myself."
Three, two, one.
"It's called Rent, and I'll have you know, it is one of the greatest musicals of this generation. Your lack of taste continues to astound me."
God, sometimes she really does make it too easy. He didn't even watch the stupid show, he just looked up a few videos on YouTube. He wasn't lying about those lesbians, though. He definitely wouldn't kick Idina Menzel out of his bed for singing a show tune.
"So, now that you've broken your streak, are you going to explain why you've been such a bitch today?"
"I don't know, maybe after you explain why my dads quizzed me all night about the state of our relationship? Why do they think we've been dating since May? If I recall correctly, you were still hell-bent on destroying my life last May. You were hell-bent on destroying my life last month."
Puck rolls his eyes. "Maybe I fudged the timeline a little, because I didn't want him to think that we did it on the first date, and maybe I told I gave the impression that we were really serious. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that I had to lie about something that really didn't need to be lied about. I know that your relationship with your mother centers around distrust and lying, but I make it a point to be honest with my parents."
"Does hiding a pregnancy for three months fall under honesty? Just curious."
Rachel's ears redden, but she chooses not to justify his question with an answer. "Speaking of your mother…"
"Oh, I'd really rather not speak of my mother, if that's okay with you."
"…does she know yet?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay, so she doesn't know yet. You are going to tell her, right?"
"Of course I'm going to tell her, when the time is right."
Like in a few years, when she no longer has ample opportunities to smother him in his sleep.
"Noah. The longer you wait, the harder it will get." She pauses. "I'll come over tonight and we can make dinner. We can tell her together."
"Are you fucking kidding me? Have you really not reached your awkward family supper quota for the week?"
"The sooner it's out in the open, the sooner everyone can move past a place of hurting and into a place of acceptance." Rachel pulls out a notebook and pen and begins scribbling furiously. "Are there any dietary restrictions I should know about before I go grocery shopping?"
He shakes his head. "Remind me to burn all of your self-help books when I get the chance."
A/N: Sorry again for how freaking long it's taken me to get this chapter up, and for ending it in a kind of awkward place. That is always the hardest part for me.
Anyway, thanks for reading, friends! If you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts!