The fifth time around, if he's being honest with himself, it's pretty much everyone's damn fault.
Thankfully he isn't an honest man, so it's easy enough for him to cast the blame elsewhere. He doesn't have to acknowledge that he's the one who started this, what with his inability to keep his fucking mouth shut, so he can go right ahead and blame Finn for this whole fucking mess. Damn Finn and his inability to act, that was what made this thing fall apart. Then again, he couldn't place all the blame on him, because he had already known Finn was a shitty actor, so it wasn't really a surprise.
If anything, he's laying the blame on her for this one, her and that snotty "no-one-will-ever-upstage-me" mindset she possesses. Yeah, if it wasn't for her overreaction, this shit wouldn't have gone down.
"Gav! Get the fuck down!" To no one's surprise the dog doesn't budge, looking perfectly at home on the leather couch. Fed up, Puck pushes the black-and-white behemoth off, glaring as the dog plops down on the floor with a very audible thud. Great, it was only a matter of time before he received more complaints from the below apartment.
It would only be the fourth time this month.
"Damn dog." He mutters, running a hand over his head as he sinks into the leather.
"I'm telling you, he's a bear."
Puck's eyes flit back to the television screen his friend was currently occupying via live feed. He decides to not argue over it. No matter how many times they had had this conversation, he could not convince Finn that Gav was, among other things, a dog. Sighing, he lays back,
"As long as he doesn't eat another couch, I don't care what the fuck he is."
Finn laughs, glancing up from whatever's occupying his attention off screen.
"Gave up on the whole world record thing? He's destroyed, what, five now?"
"Seven." His surely reply only increases his old friend's humor, and he's fighting off the beginnings of a grin himself.
"Maybe it's not too late to try obedience classes?" Because the first four had worked out so fabulously.
"And miss out on the entertainment of watching him destroy another half-dozen couches?"
Finn glances up, a smirk tainting his smile, "So that's how you entertain yourself now?" The innuendo is not missed, and is promptly met with a raised middle finger.
Ignoring the Staff Sergeants laughter, Puck returns his attention to his phone, checking his new texts and sending the necessary replies.
"What kind of name is Gav, anyways?" Finn asks, his gaze returning to dog/beast stretched out on the floor.
"Hell if I know, Rachel named him. After a guy in a play I think."
"Shit, that reminds me! I still need to call her…"
Puck stops listening at that point, his body tense as his hand subconsciously tightens around his cell phone. It's an old reaction, practically instinctual, but thankfully Finn doesn't notice.
"You still talk to her?"
Finn stops talking, and there's the briefest hesitation. True, their friendship had been repaired, but only under the mutual assumption that they would never mention their history with girls.
Easy Puckerman, keep it cool.
"..Oh, yeah. I promised to call her. Probably should do it today, while I have time-"
He turns away from the screen then, staring down at his cell phone. He listens as Finn changes the subject, going off about some botched drill that happened earlier, and how he might get off for a week sometime soon, but he doesn't really take anything in.
"I ran into her awhile ago." He's not sure why he brings it up, but he does. Finn stops talking, but Puck doesn't look up to see his expression.
"Really? In New York? What are the chances of that!" He whistles, and for the briefest moment Puck has the urge to mention he's seen her four times now.
He doesn't, but he still wants too.
"She's getting married." He's definitely not sure why he said that, and for a moment he's horrified, afraid that Finn might realize just how much Puck's bothered by all this. Luckily Finn has completely different concerns.
"Man, what the fuck?" Puck looks up at the screen, surprised to see that Finn's pissed.
"Why'd you tell me that! She probably wanted to tell me herself!"
Shit.
Puck spends the next two hours trying to teach Finn how to act surprised. By the time they're done he's completely convinced they're both screwed.
Someone's gonna die.
Whoever was behind that door, Noah Puckerman was going to make sure they died slowly.
At four in the fucking morning.
He'd only turned in about an hour ago, and he had to be at the studio at ten. After a long night of drinking, he needed sleep more than anything.
So he'd been able to ignore the pounding for the first ten minutes.
Five minutes after that he decided murder would be justified in this case.
Yanking open the door, his expression nothing short of homicidal, he barely has the time to step aside as she nearly runs him over. She's looking more homicidal than he's ever seen her, and he's a little bit afraid as she whirls around to glare at him. Staggering backward as she stalks up to him, her heeled boots clicking against the polished wood, and he's fairly certain she's about to kill him.
"You told Finn!" His confusion lasts about three seconds before he understands.
Fucking Finn! It wasn't surprising his friend broke down, but he was still going to beat his ass for it.
Then he realizes she's still up in his face, prattling on and on about something that he's not listening to, and okay, maybe he's a little worried still (she is so within ball-kicking range). Then, at some point he regains enough of his common sense to realize that something's amiss.
"How do you know where I live?" Seriously, this wasn't a small town, this was New York. How the hell did she find him?
She stops her tirade, eyes wide, opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it once more.
"Finn told me."
"He knows where I live?"
"Surprisingly, as I believe that he sometimes forgets his own address, however he did not mention your new couch being so-"
"Hold up, he told you about my couch?" Okay, this was just getting weird. What the hell was Finn up to?
"Well it came up while we were talking about Gavroche, he wanted to know how I picked that name, and, well,... I didn't know you still had him honestly, and I didn't want to-"
"Damn it, did he tell you everything?"
"Well, I think he may have been a tad bit nervous, I mean he was rambling quite a bit…and I may or may not know about your encounter with a pair of supposedly Swedish twins last Saint Patrick's, but that's-"
"The Fuck? What didn't he tell you!"
"He didn't tell me why you told him!" She spat, finally having realized that he was just trying to turn this whole thing around on her. Pity, he thought he might actually get out of this not dead.
"How could you do this to me?" She's furious, and okay maybe she has the right to be, but he has nothing to defend himself with and he doesn't like it. Honestly, it was just a slip of the tongue, but there's no way she'd believe that. She'd be the last person to settle for such a mediocre excuse.
So, he resorts to saying what he's grown accustomed to thinking lately.
"Fucking Finn!" Because it's so much easier to blame the one person who isn't there.
"Don't insult him!" She snaps, eyes flashing, and he has to hide the fist he's made behind his back as his jaw clenches. Ah yes, he remembers now. It was always taboo to insult Finn, wasn't it? No matter what happened, Finn was always off limits. How could he have forgotten that, even for a second?
He just stares at her, with absolutely nothing to say, his face and eyes completely frozen. It takes a few moments, but then she realizes what she just said and suddenly her mask is down, but only for a second.
"Why'd you even tell him?" She asks after the tension reaches its climax, and she's looking away because she doesn't want to face the truth, and he's still silent because he just doesn't know what to say.
He's saved by the bell, or rather, by the dog that's begging for her attention. She had done a good job of ignoring him up to this point, but it was no use. Honestly, she could only ignore the 120 pound hellhound for so long, especially when the said hellhound nearly takes her out by head-butting her in the side.
"Gavroche!" Her voice instantly loses its edge as she kneels down to shower the dog with enough affection to make up for all the missed years. He finds it a little hilarious how much she fawns over the thing, and even as he's watching her he's reminded of why the dog likes her so much more than it likes him. She's talking, mostly to the dog, but now and then she directs some of her words towards him, mostly to ask questions about the beast(Did he get bigger? He looks fat, have you been walking him? He's still on a vegan diet, right?), which is just fine by him (she might still want to hurt him).
"Well then, I guess I'm done here." She announces suddenly, startling him as she straightens back up. He notices her falter when she glances over at him again, and she looks away quickly. He thinks she may have finally realized he's only wearing his boxers. He may be a little amused by that.
He watches her carefully, wary that she's going to attack him out of nowhere (it would not be the first time). But she actually does look like she's done, because she's making eye contact again. "I trust you've learned your lesson?" She questions, her voice regaining all its authority and polished flair. He nods, even if he has no fucking clue what she's talking about.
"Sure did. It won't happen again." Is it even possible for him to commit a repeat offense? Maybe he could tell her dads, if they didn't know already.
She beams at him; and since he's still not sure if he's out in the clear his smile is a little unsure. She adjusts the purse on her shoulder, turns away and heads for the door. Before she reaches it she pauses, like he knew she would, and glances over again.
"You know, I have half a mind to charge you for taking up so much of my time." He raises a brow at that, because really, he could say the same. But he won't, he's not that much of an idiot. "If I see you again, you can expect a bill." He rolls his eyes at how official she sounds right then, wondering if she just naturally reverts to formality when she feels uncomfortable. Even though he knows he should hold his tongue, he can't help the sarcastic reply.
"Yeah, sure thing. If I run into you again I'll buy you dinner or something."
"I'd like that." She gives him a last smile, and he doesn't know what to say so he doesn't say anything. He's not brave enough to follow her out, so when she shuts the door behind her that's it; she's gone.
Gavroche noses the door, whining as he glances up at his owner. Puck sighs, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. Could he have been any more useless just then? Seriously, he hardly said a damn word. Hell, if this thing ever became a movie he'd probably be written out of the script.
Gritting his teeth, he realizes the truth but acknowledges nothing, not even in the darkness of his apartment.
It's starting to piss him off now too, because no matter how he looks at all this, he fucking hates it. He hates how she's always the one with all the lines, he hates how she's always the one leaving (not always), he hates how she's always the one in control, and he hates how much he hates that ring on her finger.
Because honestly? He's getting a little tired of being upstaged.
Um, I'm back? XD
I guess I got a little sidetracked o3o
Reviews equal love. XD