A/N: I promise not to begin each chapter with a note, but just one more. First, thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts! Second, my internet connection has been stupidly unreliable lately, hence the delay in updating. I can't promise anything, but I'm hoping to be able to be more consistent with them from now on. Finally, this is now seventeen chapters.
It turns out that not being registered at OSU until June somehow means that student housing is no longer available, which is annoying, but not the end of the world. OSU is cheaper than being out-of-state at NYU would have been, so it's a fairly simple matter to find a little one-bedroom apartment near campus. Really, it's nice to have a reason to get out of Lima for a day.
There's a little part of her that feels guilty about thinking that, but since his surgery, Rachel's essentially been watching her daddy waste away. They were warned, by doctors and their own research, but watching him shrink, watching him go from her tough, solid daddy and turn into this thin, frail-looking man...god, it twists her stomach into knots. She can't remember the last time she felt normal. (It scares her.) She thinks that maybe being out of town could be the distraction she needs, because just spending time with her friends isn't doing the trick.
There are a whole slew of people from McKinley going to OSU. That's pretty normal, given that it's one of the nearest universities and it's so popular, and one of the reasons that Rachel is even more disappointed by not going to New York with Kurt and, randomly, Mike Chang. Instead, she'll be at OSU with Finn, Santana, Noah, and Sam.
That little list alone makes her alternately relieved and concerned.
She ends up agreeing to go look at places with Noah and Santana, even though they're both going to be in the dorms, because she asks Noah when they're all taking advantage of Santana's pool and the girl invites herself when she overhears. It turns out to be something of a blessing though, because Santana's father is apparently loose with a credit card and doesn't mind booking a hotel room for the three of them for the night. Rachel can't say that the idea of spending two days out of Lima isn't even more appealing than being gone for just one.
If you'd told her even a year ago that she'd be happy about the prospect of spending two days with Santana Lopez - including four hours in a car and potentially sharing a bed - Rachel wouldn't have believed you. But the girl has grown immensely in the last year, exploring her sexuality (she's dated both boys and girls in the last year, so fluid is probably the best way to describe her) and evaluating her relationships with those around her. Somewhere in all that, she stopped directing her ire at Rachel on a regular basis. It's not something either of them have discussed; it just...is. They aren't friends, exactly, but neither is insulting the other (something they've both excelled at over the years) and they've even supported one another a few times in the last year. They've sung together, which is certainly saying something for Rachel; being duet partners always holds some significance.
"This place is perfect for you," Santana announces when they're in the third apartment of the day.
Puck does not care. Not at all. Like, he was sick of this after the first place, when it kind of clicked that Rachel was going to have all of this freedom and space for herself and he was going to be sharing a shoebox with Sam with RAs breathing down his neck. Yeah, he's a little bitter. And also hungry, because they ate before they left Lima, and that was a while ago.
"Why is it perfect?" Rachel asks. She's curious what Santana sees that she doesn't, because this doesn't seem particularly special to her.
"Southern exposure, no tiny oven, two blocks from campus, cute little balcony, huge bath tub," she rattles off, walking into the bedroom closet and not even bothering to look at Rachel.
Well, now that she says that. The first place did have a tiny little apartment stove, and an oven that would never hold a regular-sized cookie sheet. The second place was further from campus and nearly all of the windows faced north, which is admittedly awful.
"There's one more place to look at," she points out.
Santana ignores Noah's groan. "It's a waste of time. We already know you'll have to drive to get to campus from that place, so why even pretend that you're going to live there?"
It's almost annoying that Santana is right, but she is, and while Rachel may be too proud to straight-out admit it, she is willing to forgo seeing the last apartment in favor of signing a lease on this one.
Later (after hours, literally, spent trekking around the city and shopping until the trunk of Rachel's car and the half of the backseat not reserved for a human being were full), they're sitting in their hotel room, talking about possibilities for dinner.
"Wait," Puck says, interrupting the girls' debate over something stupid. "We got you a present, Rach."
She's immediately nervous. She's seen this exact look on both of their faces, usually before something bad happens. In the past, to her, and often involving a frozen beverage or a transgender-related slur.
"Stop with the face," Santana orders, startling her. She starts digging in her purse, giving up after a few moments and upending the thing on the bed, scattering everything from a tin of Altoids to a handful of condoms before her hand closes on the thing she was looking for, a greeting card envelope. "Happy...new apartment," Santana says, dropping the envelope in Rachel's lap and flopping over onto her stomach beside her.
Puck watches her face when she pulls the little card out, sees it go from confusion to outrage in a split second. Awesome.
"What is this?" she demands.
"Fake ID," Puck tells her simply. "And we're gonna test it out tonight."
"I cannot have a fake ID," she insists. For one thing, she doesn't drink enough to warrant such a thing, and for another, the last thing she needs is to get caught using the thing. "I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but-"
"Shut up," Santana interrupts, sounding bored. She tilts her head at Rachel. "At some point, you're going to want to blow off some steam. You'll be able to come out with us instead of drinking alone in your apartment or something really depressing. And at the very least, I'm going to make you come out and be my DD," she adds, almost as an afterthought.
She puts it better than he would have, and Puck can see the wheels turning in Rachel's head. Seriously, logic is the way to go with her, always, because as much as she can twist logic to suit what she wants, she has a hard time fighting against it when someone else does the same thing.
Noah's watching her carefully when she looks up at says, "I suppose you two think we should test this out tonight, don't you?"
Such a good idea.
They end up at this weird little place called Tropics with an enormous list of girly mixed shots and a collection of machines spinning various frozen drinks. There's no bouncer, and the bartenders obviously aren't concerned with serving to minors since they don't bother to check either Puck or Santana's IDs when they order, which kind of makes it awesome, even with all the neon-colored drinks served in styrofoam cups.
Puck gets a beer to make himself feel better about the whole thing.
Rachel's smart enough not to let Santana choose all of her drinks, but she's sipping some frozen cherry something made with vodka and peach schnapps, and Puck brings over a tray with pretty little pink and blue shots (both of which are delicious, for the record). Rachel decides that she doesn't hate the idea of the fake ID any longer less than an hour after they arrive.
It's kind of awesome to see Rachel relax since it hasn't happened in a while. She fakes it when she's with other people, but she's not really fooling anyone. Maybe it's stupid that they let her think that she does, but whatever. If he has to feed her girly, fruity shots to get her to forget about the shit going on at home, so be it.
Santana starts flirting with some guy when she and Rachel are waiting in line to use the restroom, but Noah seems perfectly content to spend his night with her, taking shots and singing along with the jukebox and talking about whatever. It works out, because while she's brave enough to use her gift (and she's well aware that both Noah and Santana consider this a legitimate and valuable gift), she isn't quite ready to spend an evening hitting on strange men in a bar she isn't legally even allowed to sit in.
"You all think I'm going to let you store your liquor in my apartment," she says suddenly, realizing it for the first time. "Noah!"
Puck smirks, because she actually figured that shit out faster than he thought she would. He made that decision about five minutes after he found out that she wouldn't be living on campus like the rest of them. Yeah, he'll still keep stuff in his room - rules are for suckers - but he'll be able to keep a whole stash at her place. "I'll share," he offers, shrugging his shoulder and grinning when she huffs.
"Just for that, I want another round of those pink ones," she tells him, pushing the tray of empty shot glasses at him. He laughs, because she's fucking cute when she's drunk.
He flirts with the chick behind the bar to get his shit comped (and he does) and smacks Santana's ass when he walks by her on the way back to the table just because that's how they roll.
Some dude's sitting in the chair beside Rachel when he gets back, and she looks up at Puck with wide eyes when he sets the tray in front of her. "Noah!" she says, sounding all weird. He doesn't totally know what to make of it, so he just takes his seat and eyes this guy in the fucking purple polo. "This is Spencer."
Santana lowers herself into the fourth chair and stares down Purple Polo. "Is there a reason that you're flirting with my girlfriend?" she asks, snagging Rachel's drink and taking a little sip from the straw.
If it's possible, Rachel's eyes get even bigger. "She told me she had a boyfriend," Purple Polo says smugly, glancing sideways at Rachel.
Noah finally catches on and leans toward Spencer menacingly, his lips curved into a grin. "She does."
Spencer holds up both hands and stands from the table. "You're into freakier shit than me I guess," he says to Rachel, then turns and walks away.
Rachel looks between Noah and Santana, then reaches for one of the glasses on the tray he just brought, knocking back the shot quickly. "I cannot believe you two just did that."
"Whatever," Santana says dismissively. "He was one of those persistent douches, and now he'll leave you alone."
"How do you even know that?" Rachel asks, her eyebrows coming together. Santana just seems to know all of these things, and Rachel finds herself alternately impressed and frustrated by that because she simply doesn't understand.
Santana shrugs, stirring her frozen pink drink with her straw. "Practice. You'll learn." She grins at Rachel. "I'll teach you."
Rachel considers this. She's a little buzzed (drunk), but she thinks this is Santana's way of saying they're going to be friends when they're both at school. Rachel quite likes the way that sounds, the prospect of actually having a girlfriend at college. She never really managed to have one in high school. Instead of saying something though, addressing what is apparently a burgeoning friendship, she just pushes a shot glass toward Santana. "Take your shot."
She's learning.
"I haven't seen the Berrys at temple in a few weeks."
Puck rolls his eyes, because this is his mom's way of fishing for gossip from him. Okay, maybe she's not just gossiping - she actually really likes the Berrys and is genuinely worried about Andrew's health - but she never just comes out and asks what she wants to know when it's about someone else. She used to broach everything like this, but after Beth, she got a lot more straightforward with both him and Abby. He figures she doesn't want to make the same mistake twice.
He could give her grief, but he's not really in the mood to play this game with her over dinner. "Andrew's chemo is on Friday mornings, and it makes him feel like shit the first couple of days."
She shoots him a little look for his language, glancing pointedly at his sister like Abby's never heard both of them swear. "How's Rachel handling all this?"
He narrows his eyes at her a little, because she sometimes goes through these 'you should marry Rachel Berry' phases (since they were both about twelve and she realized that Rachel was the only girl his age at temple), and he really doesn't want to hear it now. Eventually he just shrugs, because it doesn't matter either way, and he doesn't know how, exactly, Rachel's handling all of it. Not well. "I mean...it's her dad," he says when she doesn't seem satisfied with his shrug.
She watches him thoughtfully for a moment. "You have her phone number?" She stands up from the table and grabs the notepad off the counter next to the fridge when he nods. "Write it down."
He calls Rachel when his mom's doing the dishes, hoping to head the woman off. "My mom has your phone number," he says when she answers.
"Pardon me?"
He rolls his eyes. "She asked how you were doing and I didn't really have an answer, then she asked for your number, and the woman is impossible to say no to."
"It's fine. Thank you for the warning." She thinks it's funny, the way he talks about his mother sometimes. She knows that he loves his mom, but that sometimes he finds her overbearing (even if he wouldn't use that word himself). For all of his bluster about how Marlene is impossible or crazy or whatever else, he adores the woman.
"She doesn't really know how to mind her own business," Noah says.
"She just worries," Rachel corrects quietly. "I think it's sweet."
"You don't live with her," Noah mutters under his breath.
Rachel bites her lip but doesn't say anything. They're both quiet for a moment, then Noah asks if she's going to be at the party Kurt and Finn are having in a few days, says he'll see her there when she confirms.
Marlene waits two days to call. Rachel's forgotten all about the conversation she had with Noah, but as soon as she sees the unknown number on her screen, she knows who it is.
"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Marlene asks after making some requisite small talk.
"I'm fine," Rachel answers, speaking sincerely. It's the answer she's been giving everyone. Marlene is the first person to call her on the lie.
"Rachel, you aren't fine," she says gently. "It's hard to watch someone you love be in that much distress." She lets out a little breath when Rachel doesn't say anything. "Did you know that I was a hospice nurse before I started working at the clinic?"
Rachel squeezes her eyes shut tight. "Don't, please. Just...can you please pretend that you believe that I'm fine? Because I don't actually know how I feel about any of it, and if you tell me whatever story about whichever of your patients who died, I'm going to feel guilty for not feeling anything all over again."
She feels like she's talking nonsense, and the fact that Marlene isn't saying anything doesn't make that any better. "All right," the woman says after a long moment. "But promise me that you'll talk to someone if you need help figuring it out, anyone. You have to take care of yourself, Rachel."
"Okay." She whispers it because she can't quite speak around the lump in her throat.
"I'm going to have Noah watching out for you, especially once you two go to school," Marlene says sternly. She means it like a threat, and that's exactly how it sounds. "I'll find out if you aren't taking care of yourself."
Rachel laughs tearfully. "I promise."
Kurt's moving to New York at the beginning of August, and even though it breaks her heart (because she was supposed to be moving with him), Rachel makes a point of attending the going away party Finn is hosting for his brother. Of course, based on the refreshments and the decorations (and the fact that there are decorations at all), it's obvious that Kurt planned his own party and saying that Finn is the host is just a ruse to make him feel better about the whole thing. He has just a teeny, tiny bit of shame left.
She's chewing on a slice of apple from the sangria she's drinking when Finn comes to sit beside her on the couch. "Lovely beverages, host," she teases, gesturing to him with the clear plastic glass she's drinking from. Honestly, he and Kurt aren't fooling anyone.
"Yeah, I know," he says, rolling his eyes before taking a pointed drink from the bottle of Corona in his hand. "How's your daddy doing?"
"Better, actually. I mean, not right now, since he had chemo this morning and that makes him miserable, but his last round is next week and all of the tests have come back negative," she answers. She doesn't tell Finn, because it doesn't really matter to him, but Daddy has also stopped dropping weight and feels stronger, generally, than he did a month ago.
"Negative is good, right?" She nods. "That's awesome."
She loves him a little for still caring.
A part of her will always love Finn, even though she knows now that they aren't meant to be together. Their relationship was always so complicated, so mixed up with everyone and everything else, that she's entertained the highly dramatic idea that maybe they were doomed from the start. (It's not surprising, especially given how long she believed that they were meant to be.) They were together for nearly a year this time around, until the reality of the fact that Finn was staying in Ohio while Rachel was going to New York really started to sink in. She ignored it though, studiously, focusing instead on glee club and making the most of her senior year of high school, and she could tell Finn was doing the same.
Prom was perfect. She wore a deep purple dress, and Finn looked exceptionally handsome in his tuxedo, and neither of them was at all involved in the Quinn versus Santana prom queen dramatics. No, they just had fun with their friends and with each other, and the night ended with a perfect dance to a perfect song.
And that night, when she was standing in her bathroom, tugging pins from her hair, she realized that they would never have a moment more perfect than that one. She knew, somehow, that everything about them being together would be downhill from there, disappointing and difficult and, ultimately, not worth the heartache.
She was the one who ended things, though they told all of their friends it was a mutual decision. And it felt like one, after she explained her reasoning and Finn revealed that he'd had similar thoughts. They both knew that no matter how much they loved one another, this relationship wasn't meant to follow them after high school, and they both made peace with it.
Sometimes, she has moments when she wonders if she did the right thing. In a lot of ways, she didn't just lose her boyfriend, but her best friend. There isn't anyone she just talks to as much as she talked to Finn, even if she does have true friends in Kurt and Mercedes. Finn was always the one person who really had time for her, who could put aside his own concerns to be there for her, and yes, there's a part of her that misses that.
She drinks her sangria while they chat, eating the bits of fruit that taste suspiciously like they were soaked in some other liquor before they were added to the wine. She feels herself getting more and more drunk as she talks about the cat her fathers have decided to adopt (it was a suggestion they found on some website that they've taken to heart) and suggesting that they have a get-together at her apartment in Columbus once school begins.
Puck watches her talk to Finn from across the room, and he really, really hopes that she isn't going to get wrapped up in all that again. They've been keeping it pretty quiet, but he knows that Finn and Santana have had something going on (he's pretty sure it's just sex, given Santana's involvement, but still), and he's not totally sure that Rachel will be able to deal with rejection right now.
He's kind of keeping an eye on her because his mom is on his ass about it, and, yeah, because he does care. They're friends, and there's something about the look on her face when she gets upset that just goes all through him. It's stupid, but it kind of reminds him of Abby, so it's kind of like he thinks about her like a sister.
Except Rachel's really hot and he'd totally tap that under the right circumstances.
Still.
He waits until she goes in the kitchen, follows her and reaches into her glass for a cherry once she's poured. "Hey!"
He winks at her as he chews. "So, you and Finn gonna give it another go?" he asks, cutting straight to the point. "Be college sweethearts, turn your apartment in Columbus into a little love nest?" He's had a few, so his filter is almost fucked.
"What? No," she answers, looking up at him like he's stupid. She can't imagine where he'd get such an idea, and such an elaborate one at that. "You mean because we were just talking?" She huffs out a breath, because honestly. "I can't even talk to someone without wanting to be involved with them romantically?"
He holds up his hands. "Fine. Forget I asked."
"We were just talking about my dad," she explains, her voice quiet. Her eyes are on her drink when he looks down at her, her wrist moving just slightly to swirl the contents of the glass.
"How is your dad?"
She blinks up at him, then smiles slowly. "Better. They're getting a cat."
She laughs when his eyebrows come together. "A cat?"
She tells him all about it, and the entire time, she's trying to figure out why it even matters to him what she and Finn are or aren't doing.
Her fathers do, in fact, get a cat, barely more than a kitten, really. She refuses to go to the shelter with them simply because she knows it'll upset her not to be able to take home all of the animals there, though she insists that they support a local no-kill shelter, and they come home after a few hours with an adorable little ball of fluff. He's white and orange with bright green eyes, and there's a tiny freckle of a spot of orange to the left of his nose that Rachel immediately falls in love with.
She thinks her fathers' sudden urge to get a pet - a pet she's been begging for for years, mind you - is a combination of the research they've read on the therapeutic benefits of living with animals for cancer patients and the fact that their only child is moving away. She's pointed out the latter and been dismissed, but the way Daddy grinned lets her know that she isn't too far off base.
"He needs a name," Daddy announces. They're sitting in the living room together, her fathers on the couch while she sits on the floor, trailing a ribbon toy for the kitten to chase. "We can't keep calling him kitten."
"You can't just give a cat a name," Rachel protests, looking up at them. "Don't you think an animal deserves to earn his name?"
Daddy just shrugs, smiling when the kitten abandons Rachel's ribbon in favor of pouncing on a catnip mouse. "What do you want to call him?"
The doorbell rings before she can answer, which is just fine since she doesn't have any idea what to name the cat. She volunteers to answer the door, and is surprised to find Noah on the other side.
She's standing in front of him with her hair up in a ponytail, dressed in cotton shorts and a gray McKinley tee shirt Puck can't even believe she owns, and it's kind of weird to see her look so casual. It's not completely weird - he's seen her like this before - but it's such a rarity that he has to look at her for just a second before he opens his mouth. "My mom sent me," he tells her, holding out the dish in his hands. "It's blackberry crisp, which she said is on your daddy's diet as long as he doesn't eat too much of it. And she made it with margarine, so you can eat it, too," he adds quickly.
He's speaking so quickly that he almost sounds nervous, which makes her smile when she steps aside to let him in the house, taking the dish. "My dads are in the living room with the kitten," she tells him. "You should go say hi."
"To the kitten?"
She rolls her eyes and grins, turning her back on him and walking toward the kitchen to put the dessert in the fridge.
It's actually kind of weird to be in Rachel's house when her dads are home; any time he was here after school, they were still at work, and she's had a couple of parties when they were out of town, but that's all.
The first thing Puck notices when he walks into the living room is this cat, lying on his back and scratching the fuck out of some stuffed toy with his back paws. The second thing he notices is how different Andrew looks from the last time Puck saw him, but in a totally good way.
"You look awesome," Puck tells him. He kind of feels stupid as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but Andrew just smiles and thanks him, tells him to have a seat.
"What would you name a cat, Noah?" David asks, his eyes on the cat, which is now chasing its tail in circles, the sound of his little claws catching in the carpet audible.
"Uh. I dunno. Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Boy," Andrew answers. "He needs a manly name."
Puck's pretty sure there's no such thing as a manly cat (and even if there was, it wouldn't have a chance in this house), but whatever. "I really don't know," he says after a minute. "I'd end up naming it something stupid, like Killer."
Andrew looks at him blandly. "Yeah, that is pretty stupid."
David starts laughing first, and Puck's really just happy to see that Andrew doesn't look gray any more. Puck missed temple last week, and Andrew wasn't there the week before, so it's been a while, and hearing Rachel say that he's doing better isn't the same as actually seeing it. The guy has lost all of his hair, including his eyebrows, and he wasn't exactly pale before (dude's black; come on), but his coloring was weird. He looks pretty normal right now though, even if he is a lot skinnier than he was before.
Noah is telling Daddy about the dessert his mother sent when Rachel comes back into the living room, sitting in the armchair adjacent to the couch and looking strangely comfortable sitting in the living room with her fathers. She finds that she rather likes it, so she retakes her seat on the floor, scratching the kitten behind the ears while the boys talk.
"I still think Cary Grant is a perfectly acceptable name," she offers when the conversation lulls. "He was an exceptional actor."
"That cat does not look like a Cary Grant," Andrew counters. "Too undignified."
Puck just listens while the three of them bicker, tossing around a bunch of names they've obviously already shot down. They're all old (mostly dead) actors and characters from movies he's heard Rachel talk about, and he's totally trying to think of something to contribute to the conversation, but this isn't really his specialty, movie classics and whatever. But then he thinks of the perfect name.
"Rock," Noah offers, speaking abruptly. He's grinning when she looks up at him, the expression he gets when he thinks he's done something particularly clever. It's the same look he had after he sang to Lauren junior year, which leaves her understandably wary of his explanation of his choice. She wants to ask, but she just waits.
"Rock?" David repeats.
"Like Hudson," Puck says, and yeah, it's perfect. "He was into dudes. It's perfect."
"Oh, my god," Rachel murmurs from her place on the floor, looking away when Puck tries to meet her eyes.
Andrew just watches him for a moment, his expression completely unreadable. Puck's starting to worry that he's accidentally pissed the guy off when he cracks up, leaning his head back against the couch while he laughs. Puck still isn't sure the guy isn't pissed, honestly.
"You want me to name my cat after a closeted classic film star," Andrew manages after a minute. "It's perfect."
Rachel gasps. "You cannot be serious."
"Rock it is," Andrew declares, leaning over to scoop the kitten up when he circles near the men's feet. "Your name is Rock Hudson," he croons, holding the kitten up and scratching between his ears.
Rachel shakes her head at Noah, because as much as she can't believe that Daddy named the cat Rock Hudson, she can't believe that Noah even knows who Rock Hudson is.
"I know stuff," he tells her when he sees her looking. The little scowl on her face is kind of cute, and he digs that he was the one to put it there.
She walks him to the door just a little later, following him out and lowering herself to sit on the front steps. He was planning on going, but he figures there's no good reason not to sit with her for a little bit if she's going to be out here anyhow, so he sits beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"He looks totally different than last time I saw him," he tells her. "In a good way."
She nods, smiling over at him. "He's doing much better," she agrees. "It makes leaving for school that much easier."
She can't imagine what it would be like to leave for school knowing that his health was getting worse, but between the surgery and his chemotherapy, he seems to be doing better. She knows there's a chance that they didn't get it all, that the cancer is hiding in his body or whatever terrible thing cancer does, but she's finally found some of that positivity. She really believes that he's going to be okay.
"I can't believe they named him Rock," she says after they've both been quiet for a moment.
He scoffs, bumping her shoulder with his. "You're just jealous that I thought of a better name than you."
She sticks out her tongue, even though she isn't four years old, because he's absolutely right and it annoys her that he knows her so well. Rock is perfect for that kitten; she just wishes she'd thought of it first.