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My reasons have nothing to do with the fic. They're kind of inspirational starting points, but some of them spiral away. Yet for all of that, my reasons are true.
14 Reasons I Love You
9. For many men it's the lure, the hunt, the chase, that attracts them. But I always feel like I'm behind you...always chasing to catch up. And you make me better for it. You're encountering things, problems, solutions, in worlds I'd never be able to run in. But I should be able to. And all I have are these meager, paltry offerings. As Yeats said, 'Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light...I would spread the cloths under your feet. But I, being poor, have only my dreams - so I would spread my dreams...'
"No," Rachel said, breathing faster. "I can't. I won't. You can't make me."
"Oh yeah?" Puck asked, his arms keeping her in that one spot, her back pressed against the locker. "I think I'll take that as a challenge."
Rachel started breathing through her mouth so she wouldn't have to smell him, and kept quiet. Like what her daddy said: maybe if she ignored him for long enough, he'd go away.
"Oi. Look at me. Look. At. Me." His hand came up to rest on her chin, and forced her up, until his words fell, warm, wispy, on her lips. "You are...someone...different. And that knucklehead that you think you like, he won't see that."
His arms fell away and his footsteps receded, and Rachel panted against her locker, trying her hardest not to think about the almost-kiss.
The first time Noah Puckerman hunted down Rachel Berry, they were five. His mom had brought him over to their house, in order to 'build up Jewish relations'. In reality they were supposed to see if their kids were compatible, because his mother was mercenary like that, and the first signs of her drinking problem had already begun to manifest. She was always looking for money...but at least she really loved Puck then, and tried to restrain herself from drinking too much, especially with another baby in her belly. Rachel kept herself aloof from him, walking away with her head up, so of course to puncture her ego Puck poked her at every opportunity, in as many creative ways as possible, burst water bombs over her head (one of Rachel's fathers actually supplied him with the balloons, because Rachel's reaction to this betrayal was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. Puck really, really liked Ian. The man had a wicked sense of humor.)
After he'd taken it a bit too far, Rachel had gone off crying into the park. Puck'd rolled his eyes, took the castigation from his mom and her other dad, and went Rachel-hunting.
If he'd known what she'd do to him when he found her, he would have worn groin protection.
The second time Noah Puckerman hunted down Rachel Berry, they were nine. In elementary school together, the other girls realised that she was different because she didn't have a mommy, only two dads, and they were absolutely relentless in teasing her about it. For Rachel, who had self-confidence issues and only wanted to fit in, it was devastating.
She ran off crying, into the woods.
Having had a similar experience four years earlier (half a lifetime ago) - plus a few more experiences from visits afterward - Puck could almost track Rachel in the snow.
And...there she was, up a tree.
"Rachel," he called. "Come down, please?"
"No!" she called from up top. "They'll just tease me again!"
"So I'll protect you! We got's to stick together, right? Us?"
"No! You'll just tease me instead of them!"
"I won't, Rachel, not like them. I like your dads, remember?"
"Daddy likes you..."
"Cause he's cool."
"Pff," she scoffed. "You're nuts."
"Yeah, my nuts are feeling, like, 'ow'."
She giggled. "Okay, okay...fine. But you've got to promise, okay? Or you're gonna hurt again."
"Yup, okay!"
So Rachel got into becoming one of the guys.
The third time Puck went Rachel-hunting was when they were thirteen. She'd been one of the guys for the past four years (forever), but then in the last year of middle school she'd moved toward Kurt Hummel instead of hanging out with them and their 'dirtiness', she'd said with a wrinkled nose. The girls had grown out of teasing her about her dad, and she was well-liked enough to survive without them, but Puck missed hanging out with her, a little bit. Not too much.
Still, though, he was starting to notice how girls looked like, and he quite liked the blonde ones. But whenever Rachel was in the room his eyes would track to her. He discounted it as old habit, how he'd always be watching out for her after Ian had told him he was worried for his daughter. He liked Ian. He still had a wicked sense of humor. Living with him for any period of time (Puck and Sarah'd slept over at their place a couple of times when he'd been little and his mom had gone out somewhere - probably to drink, he thought) had taught Puck how to avoid insects in his shoes, his bed, his socks, his hair (he'd finally gotten rid of that last one by shaving his head, and he liked having so little hair), so the other boys, trying to play pranks, couldn't even hope to match Ian Berry's genius at pranking.
But...all of that just meant that he'd watch Rachel talking excitedly to Kurt out of a corner of his eye, even as he awkw-smoothly professed to the blonde in front of him that she should give him a kiss.
Even when she kissed him and put a hand on his shoulder he was still watching Rachel, but she didn't even turn to look at him, engrossed in whatever Kurt was saying.
A part of him itched for future revenge. He'd remember Kurt Hummel's name, and Kurt Hummel would pay. Maybe he'd make a deal with Dave Karofsky? The guy always had good ideas...
The fourth time Puck went Rachel-hunting was when they were seventeen. He'd just accepted a challenge, and he would succeed at it. Oh hell yes.
So what if she was dating his buddy Finn? Times changed, sometimes faster than others, and Finn was secretly sleeping with Santana anyway, idiot that he was. Didn't he know that Santana would easily break his little fool-boy heart? Bros before hoes, sure...but if Finn was so determined to break his own heart, let him make his own mistakes. He'd known Rachel for longer than he'd known Finn, and Finn'd been a real bastard to Rachel and him, time after time, without trying. He should be getting his act together first, before he even tried to get Rachel to like him again.
That would take, what, two, three years? And in the meantime, Rachel was still getting bullied. Now, in high school, where all slates and debts were cleansed, which included the last remnants of her protection as 'one of the guys'.
Cashmere.
Really?
That was horrible.
His eyes still followed her, but now that she'd taken to wearing Ian's cashmere sweaters (he did it to mock his partner - cue wicked humor - Rachel was seriously wearing it) Puck found his continual watch to be more than a little difficult. She looked so frumpy - so different from when they were younger and she was in a dress and did he mention that he had cursed himself twenty-one thousand times for not looking up when Rachel was in that tree when they were thirteen since she had been wearing a skirt?
No, no, no...she was heading in the direction of one of the jocks, the ones that Karofsky had set upon her. He didn't know what problems Karofsky had with Rachel, but he'd be damned if he let Rachel fall for it anymore. He'd have to let Karofsky know...one way, or another.
Problem was, of course, that his own power base was beginning to fade. He'd still be among the top, no issue, but Finn's supporters overlapped with his, and if he took Rachel away from her they'd leave him, and he'd be lower down, unable to protect Rachel except with his fists and words, which wouldn't be as fun.
Puck picked up his pace. He might not be able to prevent Rachel from hitting the jock, but he could curtail it slightly...
What? Where'd she go?
Puck rolled his eyes. Right. Rachel-hunting.
She'd become more savvy over the two years of high school. He would've found himself glad for this revelation, if it hadn't been for the fact that now he was trying to find her.
She became aware that he was chasing her, and started to move faster. In jeans...hell yeah, tight jeans...focus, Puckerman - she could run pretty damn fast.
He cornered her, finally, out by the dumpster.
"Are you crazy, Puck?" she hissed. "You-we-I can't do this. Not like this."
"You, we, I," Puck mocked her. "I've been watching over you since we were filckin' five, Rachel Berry, and your dad made me promise I always would. I keep my promises."
"Oh," she said, all scornful, one small finger pressing into his chest, "You mean like how you promised not to touch Santana again?"
He flinched. "That...wasn't...it wasn't planned, Rachel, trust me."
She rolled her eyes. "If that's all..."
"No," he said, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush to him. "No, it's not."
"What is it, then?"
Puck flung her over his shoulder, and jogged away from the dumpster. Jocks clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. He jogged into the school, and into one of the guys' bathrooms, locking them into a stall.
"Eww," she muttered, looking around.
"You're going to kiss me," he said, and pressed his back against the dirty door, until she was warm and semi-willing in his arms. "You're going to kiss me, until we both regret this."
"I already do," Rachel said, but kissed him anyway.
Puck made sure Dave personally stayed away from Rachel. He somewhat regrets that he didn't make Dave stay away from Kurt, too.
The fifth time Puck went Rachel-hunting was when they were both eighteen.
Frantic, Rachel's-Other-Dad had called him in the middle of the night, telling him that Rachel had stumbled home, blind drunk and whispering swear-words, but stared off into the distance. Nothing Ian or he could do would rouse her from her stupor.
Puck cursed, and let himself out of his window. The house was suspiciously quiet, but Sarah was at a sleepover and Puck no longer cared about his mother.
Ian looked altogether too relieved when he showed up.
"Puck! Thank goodness. Maybe you know the cause?"
"Can you-" Puck coughed. "Is it alright if you leave me alone in there? Or at least, stay out of hearing range? There might be things that Rachel wants to express but can't talk about to you."
"With all hopes Rachel will always be able to talk to us," Rachel's other dad said. "But..."
"We will," Ian said, and drew his partner away.
"Rachel," Puck called, settling down beside her. Her mascara ran, her lipstick was smudged, and her hair...
Puck's eyes narrowed. Sex hair.
Filck...
"Rachel," Puck said. "Did Finn..."
Rachel continued to look past him, her eyes staring straight through her house's walls. Quite honestly, it gave him the creeps.
"Shit, Berry," Puck said. "Tell me!"
He shook her. Probably a bad move, but this was Rachel. He couldn't stand her being like this.
"He..." she said, quietly, "He...I was drinking, Puck, and when I woke up..." she shuddered and her eyes were dark with memory. "-I had to clean up, clean myself up, and then I found him, he was with Santana and he-they-did you know, Puck?"
So plaintive, broken, small. Nothing like the possessive, in-your-face girl he'd known for most of his life. Puck held out his arms.
"Did you know?" she said, but let him hug her. "I asked him, how long, and he wouldn't tell me. But Santana said, years. Did you know, Puck?"
"I..." Puck said, and that was enough.
Her gaze went blank again. "Of course you knew," she muttered. "Everyone but me knows. Everyone but me..."
Puck rubbed his forehead wearily. Clearly, he had to go hunting for Rachel's personality.
"...Why the hell are you so weak, Berry?"
"'Cause," she said, and pressed her head against his chest, smearing her makeup all over his shirt. "'Cause I am."
"No, I mean," Puck said, "Why the hell are you so weak now? There've been times in the past, if you'd been more girly, you wouldn't've been bullied so much, but one idiot who doesn't know better breaks you? You're so filckin' weak, Berry...Rachel..."
"I know I am. I can't feel anything. I'm not even disappointed, Puck."
Puck sighed. That wasn't really the best tactic. He supposed...he'd always been better with showing rather than telling her, anyway.
"Do you want to feel again?"
"Yes..."
Puck tilted her head up with his coarse, callused hands, and kissed her.
She tasted like lipstick and salt, the salt of tears.
She was crying.
The last time Rachel went Puck-hunting, Rachel was forty-one.
Winter had struck Chicago hard, and the snow piled up everywhere. Quinn supported her, one hand on her shoulder, as she talked to a memory, and scraped the snow away from where it had built up. "Hey, Puck," she said, quietly, the Star of David dangling from her neck. "I just wanted you to know, I won an Emmy, yesterday. I wish you were here, with me."
They stayed there while Quinn took her turn, telling Puck about what Beth had done, recently. Rachel didn't hear, staring off into the future, blank-eyed.
They made their way back down to her car, the security detail forming around the two of them to ward off the paparazzi. The car, its engines running smoothly, peeled away from the sidewalk.
In the rear-view mirror, Rachel watched the graveyard recede.
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