For livelaughlurve3's prompt on the meme. Too tired. Stayed up too late. Have no idea what I just wrote. I apologize for all the errors. I'm trying to get through to some progress on Fuickleberry, I promise. But I get distracted easily.
"What in the ever loving hell are you doing, Puck?"
"Lauren is new here. I'm being like, super fucking helpful," Puck scoffed in Santana's direction.
Santana managed one half of a devastatingly annoyed eyeroll before she stopped abruptly at the sound of snickering. Someone in the choir room was snickering. And it was directed at HER, Santana Mother-Effing Lopez. That shiz does not fly. Santana glared about, expecting it to be Wheezy or even Q, but instead, Rachel Berry was holding a hand to her mouth, laughing into it. Laughing to herself and it was clearly about what Puck had just said.
"EXCUSE ME MAN-HANDS? Are you laughing at me?" Santana grumbled lowly, her voice harsh and gravelly, making eight people in the room tense immediately. Lauren looked on appreciatively, hoping at least for a good show. Puck was playing with his little machine, although his eyebrow raised and his lips turned into a slight smirk. And Rachel only laughed LOUDER. "What the fuck ever Rupaul…have you finally gone completely batshit crazy?"
"I am laughing, Santana, because Noah said he was being helpful. The thought errantly occurred to me that you were probably incredibly confused, seeing as you wouldn't know helpful if it came running up to you, straightened out your woefully displaced ponytail, and then smacked you on your astonishing flat and dull rear end,"
Santana's jaw dropped and now both Lauren and Puck were snickering too. AT HER. She felt her blood pressure rise and leveled a hard and cold look at Rachel, a look that clearly told her that Rachel Berry was not long for the world of the living. Rachel seemed non-plussed and shrugged and asked, "Too many big words? Do you want me to write it down for you so that you can work it through with Finn and your dictionary app's later?"
"You DID NOT, call my ass-"
"Oh surprisingly enough, I do believe I did. You see, when I first learnt that your last name was Lopez, my thoughts immediately went to the shining star of …perhaps you were related, but when I met you and you walked away from me for the very first time, it became astonishingly clear that you were in no way related," Rachel blithely explained.
"I'm going to kick your-"
"Labels are done!" Puck announced joyfully. He brought all the attention back to himself as he meandered around the room, placing labels randomly on inanimate objects and people. "Yo, Ziz. This be Tinkles. We don't touch him."
The pianist simply shrugged as Puck placed his label on his shoulder. The young man went to put a label on the piano and Brad simply held up a hand and gave Puck a withering look. The young man shrugged and put the piano's label on "Tinkles" as well. He turned on his heel and handed Artie his label, "This be Wheels. Kids cool as shit and his mom makes dope ass waffles."
"I like waffles," Lauren nodded appreciatively.
Puck labeled everything and everyone, clearly loving the digital labeler he had "found" and "liberated" from Mrs. Ex-Scheuster's desk at Sheet's and Things. He labeled Finn, Dopey. Tina was Gothy Doc and he even dared to label Mercedes Grumpy.
"Old baby mama," Puck handed Quinn her helpful label, and she looked annoyed until he handed Sam one stating, "Old Baby Mama Handler."
"And Ziz, this is the most important label of all. Beware, for only Rachel Berry Balls of Steel can deal with whats about to get labeled," Puck advised with another hearty snicker. He stuck the label on Satana's forehead and grinned. "Satan."
"Fuck you Puckerman!" Santana hissed. She glared down at Rachel, who hadn't flinched or backed down one inch since epically smacking her down. She couldn't help but begrudgingly shrug at the girl. She appreciated a girl who could handle herself. But if Rachel kept this up, there would be some serious girl-fighting. And perhaps during the girl fight there would be a peek of ass grabbing. Certainly she would get to touch her boobs before Puckerman did.
Rachel looked at Puck curiously and asked, "Where's my label?"
"Babe, you don't need a label. You're Rachel God Damn Berry. Ziz knows. Everyone knows," Puck grinned at her wickedly as he patted her back.
Santana arched a brow and wondered if she should say something at that point. She shrugged as she looked at the label that Puck had placed on Rachel's back. If the girl could go toe to toe in a verbal spar with her, then she could deal with her Puck Label. Schue came in at that point and Puck placed a label on him as he clasped him on the shoulder.
"We're ready to work, Schue. Totally going to kick boy school ass and Vocal Crap-drenaline ass."
Santana laughed when she saw Schue's label of Asshat. She smirked at her former FWB and couldn't help but watch with interest as they choreographed another number, that was when Finn wasn't stomping on her toes. Rachel's toes weren't being stomped on, because Puck was currently holding her a little too close during some of the choreography. Santana nearly lost her mind to laughing hysteria when Mike went to switch up the choreography and dance with Rachel for a change, then backed off immediately after reading a few choice words on Rachel's lower back.
"Michael?" Rachel wondered curiously.
"Sorry…you're too good. We should really uhm-" Mike looked at Puck warily over Rachel's head and his face screwed up at the menacing scowl on his friends face. "We should distribute the talent evenly. Puck's better than Finn, but still…a shit dancer."
"Yeah, I suck," Puck insisted.
"I suck too!" Sam insisted, going towards Rachel almost eagerly. "Seriously, I'm making Quinn look bad. How did you teach Puck that thing with the ball and chain or whatever?"
Rachel smiled eagerly and went through the demonstration again, while Mike covertly pointed out the small of her back to Sam. She finished twirling and looked to Sam to see if he had gotten it, only to see that he had bolted back to Quinn on the other side of the room. She frowned when Finn took his place sheepishly and said, "Can you do that again, I didn't really-"
His words faltered as he too saw the words that Puck had placed on Rachel's back. He frowned deeply and looked to Puck with serious questions in his eyes. Puck shrugged, and Finn could only shrug in response. Santana rolled her eyes and grabbed Finn's hand, dragging him out of the room while promising, "We have to go to the Nurse, I think Finn broke my big toe…"
Rachel shrugged her shoulders and accepted Puck back as her dance partner for the rest of the practice. Schue found his asshat sticker and called practice to an abrupt halt, releasing them a half hour earlier than expected. The Glee Club meandered through the school to their lockers, surprised to see various sports team members and other extra-curricular students still at the school. Rachel furrowed her brow every time she felt someone slowing as they walked behind her and then quickly sped up to get away from her.
"Rachel, my sweet, I was hoping to get an exclusive from you now that you're a month and five days out from your breakup with Finn. I was hoping that we could have said exclusive in my pants," Jacob Ben-Israel breathily spewed out his disgusting request as he sped up from his hiding place down the hall, catching up with her and walking just behind her as she began to speedily walk away. "It's only fair…the people have a right to know how you feel…and I have a right to know how you feel in my pants…"
"You are VILE," Rachel hissed, walking even faster.
"BUT…I'd be an excellent rebound"! Jacob promised. "I could make you-"
His words were abruptly cut off and Rachel didn't feel like particularly curious as to why, she was simply glad that he had shut up. She quickly went to her locker, eager to get her things to go home when she furrowed her brow at Santana leaning against the locker next to hers. They simultaneously rolled their eyes at each other and Rachel was the first to speak,
"I'm not afraid of you, and I'll have you know, I was doing advanced levels of Tae-bo by the time I was four."
"Stuff it, treasure trail. You're one overly worded diatribe away from me spanking your naughty ass. And believe what you want, but I don't really make it a habit of spanking other people's property," Santana sneered back at her playfully. "Unless we can get your owner to agree to join in. And BELIEVE me. He would. Like…yesterday already."
"I belong to no one!" Rachel scoffed at her nemesis/team member.
"What's up mini-skirt? Gonna bend over at your locker today?" Azimio bellowed from across the hall. He walked up with four other football players, eager to get in one more round of fun torture before heading home. "Girl on girl action. Yes please, ladies, Ellen it up for me."
"Back off receding hairline," Santana growled as Rachel turned in a huff towards her locker. She pointed to Rachel's label and demanded, "Didn't hooked on ebonics work for you?"
"Oh shit. No way," Azimio chuckled in surprise and impressed amazement after taking a long few seconds to sound out the letters in his head. "Respect. Gotta love the short skirt. Especially all wet and covered in slushie on white t-shirt day."
"What on EARTH was he talking about? Was that even English?" Rachel demanded huffily. She watched as a few hockey players slowed behind her and then scurried off. "WHAT IS GOING ON?"
"Sup Satan. You harassing the midget? That ain't cool," Puck drawled as he came to a stop behind a fuming Rachel, admiring the view.
"No, just making sure people take the time to read the sign," Santana glowered at him with mock helpfulness. "Glad I could help you out with the whole Finn deal, Puckerman."
"Whatevs," Puck shrugged as Santana took her leave. He smirked down at Rachel and held out his arm, "Want a lift home?"
"Sure," Rachel smiled softly back at him.
Four hours later, Puck answered his ringing cell phone with a leisurely grin, not even bothering to look at the caller id. "Yo Midget. You want me to come over and help you take a bath or something?"
"NOAH PUCKERMAN!" Rachel bellowed over the phone. "What is the meaning of this label on the back of my sweater. Why on earth would you label me Puck's. Touch and DIE?"
"Shit baby, relax," Puck said smoothly. "Those fuckers have to know what's what. I'm doing them a favor."