Author's Note: Thanks again for all the love. :)
If you don't have "Conversations" on alert (and you should) Chapters 9&10 are up, and they're perfection as usual...
Puck had been dying to watch her change her clothes, but he noticed that his sweatshirt hung practically to her knees, and realized he probably wouldn't get to see anything good. He had considered sticking around anyway, just to watch her squirm, but he was hungry and his mother's lasagna was practically calling his name.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the neatly labeled Tupperware dish, noticing that there were two others next to it. Their tags read 'Saturday-Lunch' and 'Saturday-Dinner'. Smiling over his mother's handiwork, he wondered if she would ever acknowledge the fact that he was no longer a scrawny ten year old. Puck was completely capable of preparing food for himself, he was actually a pretty decent cook, but he knew his mother felt guilty for working so much, and tried to make up for it whenever she could.
He pulled a glass plate out of the cupboard, and scooped the pasta on to it. Opening the microwave, he slid the plate in, closed the door and punched the reheat button. He knew it would taste better if he warmed it up in the oven but the idea of Rachel Berry being alone in his room made him nervous. He didn't put it past her to snoop through his things. She wouldn't consider it snooping of course, she'd tell herself that she was merely seizing the opportunity to study the habits of adolescent males or some crap like that, but it was still snooping. He remembered the stack of magazines carefully hidden under his bed and looked nervously at the timer on the microwave.
As Puck rinsed the Tupperware in the sink, and placed it in the dishwasher, his mind wandered back to the image of her lying beneath him, her dark brown hair spread out in a fan on his sheets. Her skin had been so soft when he'd slid his hand over her stomach, and the sound of her gasp had nearly done him in. He pictured her tiny hands splayed across his bare chest, and…
Jesus… he thought, he had to stop this. He knew that there was a better than even chance that he was going to end sleeping on the floor tonight, though it wouldn't be for a lack of effort on his part. If he kept thinking about her like this, he was in for a very long, very uncomfortable couple of hours.
Yanking open the fridge, he looked at the open case of Budweiser sitting on the bottom shelf. It belonged to his mother's boyfriend, and Puck knew the scumbag wouldn't notice if a few were missing. He wasn't sure if Rachel would drink it, but if she did… A sharp stab of guilt took him by surprise. Annoyed by the unfamiliar sensation, he hastily grabbed two bottle of water, and closed the door. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he took advantage of drunk girls or anything, but he knew a beer or two would relax them both. Why the hell was he feeling guilty?
The buzzer went off, interrupting his thoughts, and he pulled the steaming plate out of the microwave. Grabbing two forks out of the silverware drawer, he stuck them on the plate, and turned to grab the two bottles off the counter. A flash of pink caught his eye, and he realized she had left her things on the kitchen table. Looking down at his full hands, he contemplated making two trips, but he was afraid to wake his mother. Setting the plate and water on the counter, he flung the wet sweater and pink coat over his shoulder. As he did, something fell out of her coat pocket and landed on the floor.
Leaning over he picked up the small brown bag and curiously looked inside. Okay fine, he'd snoop too if he were in her room alone, he thought, so what?
The contents of the bag shocked him. Not like 'oh my, that's surprising', but hard core, 'knock the wind out of you' shocked. Suddenly, everything clicked, her outfit… lying to her parents… He had seriously underestimated Rachel Berry. He was in, he was so in. He was fucking golden.
Puck carefully tucked the bag back into the coat pocket, and looked at the tiny purse on the table. He was dying to look inside and see what other secrets little miss not-so-innocent was hiding but his mother's voice popped into his head.
"A woman's purse is sacred, Noah."
He strongly suspected she had told him that because she didn't want him stealing the butterscotch Life Savers she always kept in her purse when he was a kid, but he wasn't entirely sure. Still, the childhood admonishment was enough to keep from rooting around in Rachel's bag. Looking at the steaming plate of food, he considered dumping it in the trash… eating it, after all, would take time. But then again, they had all night, and besides that, he was starving.
Gathering everything up, he practically ran down the hall. This was going to a much better evening than he had anticipated.