Notes: One more to go after this! I hope to have it up Wednesday. This chapter is on the long side, and was weirdly hard to write. Thanks to all the reviewers! You guys are amazing.
xii. Mix your words with fire
Puck was running late.
He had absolutely no excuse, as he had done nothing productive with his afternoon. Except think. Way too much.
About Rachel. About all the shitty things he'd done and said to Rachel. About Rachel's possible potential for evil genius. About Quinn. And Finn. And the itty bitty person currently growing in Quinn's stomach. How babies were kind of gross. About Artie's revenge plots. And...
Thinking sucked. And, to channel Finn, thinking was hard.
He'd paid absolutely no attention to his fourth period Bio class that morning, after he and Rachel had returned to school. At lunch, he hadn't been in the mood to sit in the cafeteria and talk about the usual stupid shit with the usual stupid people.
He'd picked up his truck, headed home, called his mom, and told her that he felt like puking. Not entirely a lie.
Puck had gone up to his room and crawled into bed. He hadn't been able to fall sleep, due to the thinking. He really didn't understand why his brain would not just shut the fuck up.
So annoying.
He'd eventually dropped off around four-ish. And had not set an alarm.
He was supposed to be in the locker room promptly at six and instead he was just pulling into the parking lot. Coach was gonna flip. He parked, badly and way the hell in the back of the lot, and jogged over to the locker room. He threw open the door.
"You're late, Puckerman."
"Sorry! I know. I'm sorry. I had a truck issue."
Total lie. Not even a good one, either.
"Yeah, yeah. I don't want to hear it. If I don't see at least one touchdown from you, you'll be running laps on Monday with my shoe in your ass! Got it?"
Puck nodded. That was mild, for Coach Tanaka. Maybe Miss Pillsbury was finally putting out?"
"Good. I want all you little mouth breathers on the field for warm-ups, in ten."
The team grunted out a chorus of affirmatives. Coach left, and most of the team, minus Finn, stared at Puck with a variety of interested expressions. Finn had turned away, pretty showily, Puck thought. Like he was a girl about to do that whole 'why do you think I'm mad at you bullshit.' Like he'd be asking, if he already knew?
Puck decided Finn was just being a moody asshole. He often was these days. That did not explain the rest of the team gawking at him like he'd forgotten clothes, or something. "What? I took a nap, sue me."
"I believe," Kurt said from where he was leaning against a locker, "that these gentlemen are less concerned with your tardiness than with a certain delicious morsel of gossipy delight that made the rounds today."
Oh shit. Puck darted a quick look in Finn's direction. Quinn told the truth? A little warning would have been nice.
"Puck. Dude," Jason Tucker, a senior, and truly terrible safety began, "please tell me that you have not sunk so low as to soil yourself with that freak Glee girl."
Oh good. The baby daddy cat remained in the bag.
"Seriously," Scott Lewis added, "After Santana Lopez? Downgrade. Unless she's giving it up and you're just closing your eyes and thinking of English muffins."
The team, save for the five members who were also in Glee, began to laugh. Puck felt himself tense, and his hands curled into fists.
Kurt rolled his eyes in disgust. "English muffins? Please tell me that you are not actually that stupid."
Finn slammed his locker shut and was about to say something, but Mike, of all people, beat him to it. "Actually, Kurt, he might just be that stupid. We had math together last year and he has yet to grasp the concept of fractions."
"Wow," said Kurt, ignoring Scott, who was cracking his knuckles like he thought that was intimidating. "There's stupid. And then there's too stupid to live, you know?"
"Watch it," Scott warned.
Mike stood up, "You know," he said, "I don't think that I will."
Kurt stepped forward to stand beside Mike and sneered up Scott. It was ballsy of him, considering Scott possessed both the size, and the mean streak, of an angry bull. "I won't either. Do you have any idea how impressive her vocal range is?"
"Berry's a pretty cool chick," Mike said.
"Yeah," Finn added, "so shut your mouth, and don't talk about her like that!"
"And kind of hot," Matt ventured, "in an uptight nerdy kind of way." Puck shot him a surprised look, "What? You've never noticed? It's something about the knee socks."
Jason whistled, "Wow. Finn, I already knew that you'd gone full reject on us. And that the little fruit was a lost cause. But I didn't know that you two," he gestured to Mike and Matt "had been drinking the Kool-Aid. What about you, Puck? Are you with them," he jerked a thumb toward Finn, "in the Rachel Berry fan club? Or do you want to spill the details on all the kinky shit she let's you do to her?"
Puck really, really wanted to punch Jason Tucker. And he'd been doing so well lately. Hadn't been in a fight for months, a personal record. Finn, apparently, had the same urge. Puck saw him stepping forward, making a fist, so he hastily moved and pushed Finn back.
A locker room brawl? Not the best way to start a game. Puck wasn't about to fuck up the season, not when they'd finally started winning.
Besides, it wasn't necessary. Jason lacked a few things: a functioning brain, a backbone, and any shred of leadership potential. He was an easy enough sort of guy to remind of his place in the world.
Puck stepped in between Finn, who was fuming, and Jason, who was smirking like he was extremely proud of himself. He chanced a glance at Kurt, who was watching him attentively.
Puck didn't doubt that Kurt would be activating some sort of text tree shortly, and that every member of Glee would be notified, in detail, of what was about to happen, just minutes after it actually did.
Good. Saved him some trouble.
He'd already made his choice. He'd made it before he and Rachel had even left the school grounds that morning. And then he had thought about it, like Rachel had asked. He hadn't changed his mind. Puck wasn't a wishy-washy kind of guy. Once he made up his mind about something, only some kind of epic disaster could change it back.
So, come hell or high water, Rachel Berry was now a person he considered a friend. And here was a primo opportunity to let the rest of the world, or at least the McKinley student body, know about it.
"Jason? Do yourself a favor, and shut the fuck up, bro. I love the Kool-Aid. The Kool-Aid is damn tasty. And Rachel Berry? Is not a locker room topic. Ever."
"Seriously? 'Cause I wouldn't mind those details, dude. With her mouth occupied..."
Puck shoved him back, into the row of lockers. "What did I just finish saying? The three of us?" Puck gestured to Kurt, Finn and himself, "are your best shot at a winning season. So, when you're flipping burgers in a couple of years, you'll actually have some glory days to relive when you try to bang the new fry cook. So don't piss us off, got it?"
Jason grumbled, but he backed down, like the good little follower that he was. He led the team out of the locker room and after a minute only Mike, Matt, Finn, Kurt and Puck remained.
Kurt's eyes were suspiciously shiny, "I now pronounce you, Noah Puckerman, a gleek! I think this moment requires a group hug. Anyone?"
"Don't start, Hummel."
Puck felt a little light headed. Had that really just happened? Had he really just publically allied himself with Glee over the team? Because of Rachel Berry? And he knew that it would be all over the stadium by the time the game was over thanks in equal parts to the wonders of modern technology, and the inability of anyone at McKinley to either keep their mouths shut, or mind their own damn business.
"What were they talking about, anyway?"
"The rumors started at lunch, dude. Where were you?" Mike asked.
"I went to go pick up my truck at lunch. Ended up skipping the afternoon."
"Of course you did," Kurt said. And actually patted Puck's head. He pulled back quickly at Puck's glare, but still. "Well, it all started when Rachel was spotted wearing an oversized grey hoodie, even more unfortunate than her usual disastrous attempts to mix plaid and argyle. A hoodie, that happened to have your name and jersey number on it."
Oh. So she hadn't noticed that she was still wearing it. She must have been really distracted.
"Care to fill in the blanks, Puck?" Matt asked.
"Nope."
"Come on!"
"Don't be a woman, Rutherford. Besides, what's with you?"
"Nothing."
Puck rolled his eyes, "Nothing? When did you overcome your Berryaphopia? Did I miss that episode of Maury?"
Matt drummed his fingers on his helmet. "She MySpaced me, the other day. She told me that she didn't blame me for bowing to the pressures exerted by a charismatic leader, and exhibiting a mob mentality. I thought that was nice."
Puck smirked. Even money that Matt remembered the exact quote because he'd had to look up a few of the words. And Rachel Berry thought that he was charismatic.
A heavy fist banged on the door, "Let's hustle, ladies," Coach yelled. "And Puckerman? You're really pushing your luck, here!"
Puck shrugged. Would not be the first time.
Matt, Mike and Kurt strapped on their helmets and left the room. Kurt had gotten his cell out, probably sending a text to Mercedes.
Who would text Tina. Who would text Artie. Who would hopefully scrap any painful and/or embarrassing plans for Puck that he had been working on. Someone would probably text Rachel.
Puck went to follow, but Finn stepped in front of him, "Is something going on between you and Rachel?" Finn looked angry.
Puck had no idea how to answer that question.
"I don't know, dude. We've been talking, and I've been being nice, right? Like you suggested that day Mr. Schue assigned us our duet? And Rachel is... a strange girl. But not always in a bad way. You know?"
"I know."
"I think that we're friends."
Finn blinked. Took a couple of seconds to digest that. "Huh. Did not see that coming."
"Neither did I, dude."
"Have you ever been friends with a girl?"
Puck thought about it, "Nope."
"Huh."
"I know. I guess that's the growing thing Rachel's talking about."
"One of the billion things she talks about."
Puck laughed. "Yeah. I try to tune a lot of it out."
Finn gave Puck one last long look and then left the locker room.
Okay. Football. He had to focus on football. Puck put his helmet on. Game face time.
McKinley won. 21 to 19. Puck had a text waiting for him when he returned to the locker room.
'Heard the whole story. Does this mean we're friends? Or would you prefer friendly acquaintances?'
He added her to his phone book under 'Berry.'
The text he sent back said, 'Where R U?'
'Home.'
'C U in 30.'
'What? Why? I am not appropriately attired!!!'
'2 bad, Berry.'
He flipped his phone shut, and went to shower.
He dressed quickly, threw his stuff in his bag, and hurried out of the locker room. He caught up to Kurt in the parking lot, "Hummel! Hey. You going to the after party?"
Kurt's eyes widened, "Um... Let me think. No."
"You should go. Without your three points..."
"Are you feeling feverish?"
"Pretty sure if I was sick I wouldn't have been kicking ass up and down that football field."
"Did you? I'm still unclear on the finer details."
Puck laughed. "Seriously, Kurt. It's at Brittney's. She won't mind. It's not just the team and the Cheerio's that go, dude. Tons of people show. Call Mercedes and everyone."
"It could be an interesting sociological experiment. I could pitch it to Ashton Kutcher!"
"You do that," Puck walked backward a few steps, "Don't worry about calling Rachel."
"Really? Why ever not?"
"Take a wild guess. Later, Hummel!"
"Ta. Tell Rachel that only divorcees wear pearls to parties!"
Puck had no idea what that meant. But he was not going to be talking about outfits or pearls with Rachel. Or anybody. Ever.
Puck sent texts to Finn and Brittney to let them know that the gleeks would possibly be attending the party. He figured that between the two of them things would go somewhat smoothly. Or, at the very least, nothing would blow up.
Noah Puckerman, capable of good deeds. Who knew?
Thirty four minutes later, he was standing on Rachel's porch. He lifted a hand to knock, but the door was eased open and Rachel slipped out. Her gaze darted around furtively.
Puck was amused. "You realize that you live here, right?"
Rachel shot him a withering look. "Obviously. My dad's already went to bed. They get up early on Saturdays."
"Oh." Puck dropped his voice to a whisper, "Aren't you going to get in trouble?"
"Technically, I've never been assigned a curfew; so technically, I can go put at 10PM, without violating any rules."
Puck smirked at her, "I do love it when you break out the questionable morals, Berry."
She looked at him strangely, "Thank you. I think. Also, you're late."
"You're welcome. And I'm aware of that."
"Had you given me a more accurate arrival estimate I would have had more time to get ready."
He took a step back and looked at her for the first time. He blinked. "Geez, Berry. You look..." She was wearing tight, dark jeans, black boots, and a dark sweater. No pearls. He was unused to a Rachel Berry dressed in things other than prints and girly colors and it threw him for a moment.
Rachel did a little twirl, "You like? I was going for cat burglar chic."
"You look normal."
"Why thank you, Puck. Your effusive compliments, as always, render me nearly speechless."
"I think nearly is the important part of that statement."
"Yes, I'm verbose. You're just going to have to accept that about me if our burgeoning friendship has any chance of flourishing."
"I'm used to it now, Berry. Now, are you ready to go?"
"I believe so," she hefted a large purse, "I've prepared for several contingencies. Not as many as I would have liked but..."
Puck shook his head. "Of course you did. It's a Friday night in Lima, you know. Not a tour of duty."
She sniffed, "I don't see the harm in being prepared."
"What have you got in there, anyway?"
"A woman's purse is a private thing, Puck. Now where, precisely, are we headed?" she set out across her lawn to where his truck was parked.
He followed. "Brittney's. But first we have to make a pit stop."
"Where? Why? What's at Brittney's?"
"Secret. You'll see. Party," he opened the passenger side door for her, and took a hold of her arm, to help her in.
"That's extremely irritating, you know."
"So are interrogations."
She took a huge step up, and between the two of them they managed to hoist her into the truck. Puck jogged over to the driver's side, and when he got it Rachel had already buckled her seatbelt.
"You would know more about interrogations than I would."
He glanced over at her, "What?"
"Because with your... past activities, of the two of us you are the one more likely to have spent time being interrogated. By officers of the law."
"Oh," he started the truck and drove down her street, "here's a tip, Rachel. If you have to explain your insults, they probably suck."
"Again, you would know."
"Now, I know you meant that as a dig, but I'm going to take it as a compliment."
"Are you?"
"Yes. Because insults are an art form. An art form I have slaved at for years to master."
"That's... an interesting way of looking at things, Puck."
"Don't worry. Grasshopper. I will teach you."
"Grasshopper?"
"Berry, if you've never seen The Karate Kid, I'm going to have to make a child abuse complaint against your dad's."
"No. I have not seen that movie. It sounds silly."
"Wax on, wax off."
"Did you forget to wear your helmet?"
"No. It's from the movie."
"Oh." Rachel slouched a little in her seat. Puck took a second to be smug about knowing something that she did not.
"Why are you insisting that I go to this party? I am sure that I did not receive an invitation."
"Sure you did. I invited you, didn't I?"
"You're not hosting the party."
"Yeah. This is high school, Berry. Not so formal."
"But..."
"Oh look. Our pit stop."
Rachel looked up. And his super genius distraction plan had apparently worked, because she did a full on double take when she noticed that they'd pulled into the parking lot of 7-11.
Which made him wonder, what if Rachel's whole chatterbox thing was her own super genius distraction plan? The shit she could be getting away with... endless possibilities.
"Why are we here, Puck?"
He cringed. Her voice had gotten a little shrill and in the confines of his truck, might have damaged his eardrums, "Calm down, Rachel. And, again, you're just going to have to trust me."
She studied him. For so long that Puck squirmed a little, like a total loser. "Okay. But just a little bit. But just to warn you, a few things in my contingency bag could be used as weapons."
"I would expect nothing less."
Rachel nodded once, opened the door and hopped down. Puck got out quickly and joined her. He opened the door for her. Rachel walked through this time, but still wore a surprised expression.
This was a little insulting. He hadn't been raised by wolves, as she well knew.
Puck placed a hand on her back and steered her towards the slushie machine. He pulled out two cups, "What's your poison?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Slushie, Berry. What kind? Not orange I'm guessing."
"You're..."
"Buying you a slushie? Yes. Maybe some twizzlers, if you're lucky."
"You're making a grand gesture."
Puck shifted uneasily, "This isn't a movie, Rachel. There's no frilly shit happening. I'm just... trying to make a point."
"Half Cherry Coke, half lemon-lime."
Puck felt his face twist, "That's gross, dude."
"Do not call me dude. That's even worse that Berry."
He shrugged and made her the slushie. He fitted the dome lid on, and fished a pink straw out of the bin for her. He handed her the cup, and made his own. Straight Coke. Basic and delicious.
Puck turned and made his way to the candy aisle. Rachel followed. Silently. He couldn't figure out what to say. He rarely had to, when it was just the two of them. She blathered, he reacted. That was just how they worked. She kept looking at him, trying to be sneaky about it, but failing miserably. She had no talent for subtlety.
He studied the candy selection, with way more concentration that he needed to.
"I like Sour Patch Kids," Rachel said.
Puck grabbed them and a pack of peanut M&M's for himself. He went to the counter, cleared his throat until the pimply faced nerd at the counter looked up from the Maxim he had open on in front of him. He was not reading an article. Puck paid and he and Rachel left the store.
She finally spoke, as they were walking back to his truck. "I give it four stars."
"What?"
"Your grand gesture. I give it four stars, out of five."
"It was not a grand gesture! I spent like, less than four bucks."
"Haven't you ever heard that it's the thought that counts?"
"Only from people who give shitty presents. And besides, if it was a grand gesture, which it was not, it totally deserves more than four stars."
"You're too close to it, Puck. Director's always see their own work through rose colored glasses. Also, Kanye West."
"But think of the impact, Berry! You and me, walking into Brittney's party. Drinking slushies. Together!"
Rachel considered, "I suppose it does have a certain cinematic quality. Music screeches to a halt. Everyone falls silent."
"That's what I'm saying."
"Four and a half. The ideas were there, but the execution was shaky."
"You're a tough critic, Rachel Berry."
"You know, you're not the first person to tell me that."
When they walked into the party, music didn't screech to a halt. IPod's didn't screech, after all. Puck had led Rachel around the side of Brittney's house. When they walked through the back gate they were subject to quite a bit of scrutiny. Rachel reacted like a champ, kept her head up and glared right back. She was yanked away by Mercedes pretty quickly, and Puck went over to the barbeque where Finn and Quinn were standing with a couple of football players, and a few of the second string Cheerio's.
"Hey Puck," one of the Cheerio's whose name he didn't know said, "Great game, tonight." She shifted so that she was very much in his personal space.
"Why thank you."
"You're welcome. Would you like..."
She trailed off when she caught Quinn giving her a death glare, "Beat it, Cankles. We," she gestured to Puck, Finn and herself, "need to have a talk. A talk that does not include you."
The no-name Cheerio fled. Followed quickly by everyone within ear shot. Puck looked at her ankles as she left. She'd really need to work on those. Or Ms. Sylvester would beat them into submission.
"Impressive," Puck commented.
Quinn was clearly not in the mood. "What," she ground out, "are you doing?"
"I just got here. So, nothing. Yet."
Finn diligently turned the variety of hot dogs on the grill.
"You brought Rachel Berry. Here."
"I did."
"Here."
"Yes." Puck glanced over at Rachel. Kurt was fussing with the neckline of her sweater. Rachel slapped his hand away.
"So I'm not hallucinating?"
"Is that a common side effect of pregnancy?"
"You hate her."
"Yeah. Turns out I don't."
"I hate her."
"Quinn..." Finn interjected.
Quinn sighed, "Okay, fine. Maybe I don't hate her. As much as I used to."
"Funny how that happens."
"But everyone else hates her."
The three of them looked over to where Rachel and Kurt had been. Rachel was now talking to Mike, a girl Puck recognized vaguely from the math class he had only recently begun attending regularly, and Brittney.
"If you two can stop hating her, I'm pretty sure everyone else can, too." Finn said.
Puck and Quinn exchanged a glance. Puck heard Rachel laugh.
Finn was probably right.