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Reel_Glee: Fractured...
Title: Fractured Into Two or Three (The Cycle of a Broken Friendship)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
becca_radcgg
Movie Adapted: Zoolander
Characters/Pairings: Puck, Finn, Rachel (Puck/Rachel, Finn/Rachel, Puck/Rachel/Finn, Puck/Finn), Sandy Ryerson, random teenage girl, and others
Rating: R
Word Count: ~ 7300
Notes/Credits: Thanks to: A-star, I could not have written this without you (you know this to be true).auchic for bitching that I could do it. Both times. gubeldood208 for being the most awesome cheerleader ever. And to everyone else who listened to be bitch and moan about this fic in all of it’s incarnations over the last month.
This fic turned into a srs bsns fic. Just so you’re warned.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit. Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
reel_glee challenge.
Summary: Future fic. Somehow all their lives have been about each other, Puck, Finn and Rachel. Even when they weren’t together.
i.
They break up on a sunny Tuesday afternoon with the entire Glee Club watching just a step away. Honestly Puck doesn’t really know what the fuck they’re fighting about. He just knows that he is right and Finn sure as shit isn’t.
And they’re not really breaking up because it’s not like they’re dating or fucking or whatever. They’re just bros, have been bros for a long time, and Puck can’t see a way out of this.
Finn’s yelling and kicking chairs, just like he did when Quinn up and lied about being his baby momma for like seven months. But Puck’s pretty sure – like at least eighty percent – that this fight has nothing to do with someone being knocked up, or Puck sleeping with Finn’s girlfriend. Puck hasn’t gone near Rachel.
Well, okay, maybe there was that one time, but Rachel was really drunk and she kept saying – maybe in slurred words – that she and Finn were done. How was Puck supposed to know that Rachel saying they were done and them actually being done were two totally different things? He’s not a psychic. He doesn’t read minds.
They’d talked, too. It hadn’t all been sex and booze. She’d told him she was going to be a Broadway star, and he’d confided in her too. People were always telling him how hot he was, so he’d taken some head shots and sent them off to some places in New York. Was there a better career for him than being really, really ridiculously good looking and getting paid for it? Maybe they’d shared something and then that had turned into Rachel stripping for him and then some really freaky sex. Really good freaky sex.
And maybe he didn’t tell Finn about it, but neither did Rachel, because they both knew, it was just that one night. It was never going to be anything else. It’s not like either one of them was thinking ‘hey, let’s think of a really great way to fuck up Finn’s shit’ or something. They were just two lonely, drunk, horny people alone in a big house. With condoms.
What was Puck supposed to do?
“Taking Quinn wasn’t enough for you?” Finn screams at the top of his lungs, and the dude has the gift of projection. Puck thinks that he must have picked that trick up from Glee and Mr. Schue. “How could you do this to me again, Puck? I mean, after all the shit we went through last time...”
There’s a little bit of a crowd forming, not just of the Glee kids now, but of other people too. Students who’ve gotten out of fourth period just in time to see the show.
“You knew how I felt about her, man. You knew and you did it anyway.” If there were a chair, Puck thinks Finn would probably have kicked it then. It’s not even that hot inside the school but the sweat is collecting at the base of his neck. He can tell because his shirt is sticking to his back, and he’s mostly sure it has nothing to do with Finn’s fists clenched, white and shaking.
“Look, what do you want me to say to you?” Puck tries to remember that maybe he deserves this. Just like last time. “You want me to tell you that I fucked up? You want me to tell you all the sordid details?” He steps closer because he can’t back down from this. If Finn is going to hit him, he’s going to take it straight on. None of this “in the back” shit. “You want me to tell you how many times she came?”
He realizes after Finn’s fist flies at his face that clenching his jaw was probably not the best idea. He doesn’t fall though, just staggers back a little bit. To be honest, Finn’s right hook has improved a lot since the last time.
“We’re done here.” Finn says as he shakes out his hand. The scary thing isn’t the words. Puck’s heard those words before, many times. It’s the completely vacant expression. Finn isn’t there anymore. Instead there’s like this Finn shaped shell standing in front of him with dead eyes and loose hands.
He doesn’t even care enough to punch or hit or yell. And it’s not like Puck didn’t know that this was serious, but people make mistakes. He makes mistakes. Finn’s always forgiven him before, but –
“You were broken up, man. Besides, it takes two.” He cups the side of his jaw in his hand and walks away.
He doesn’t even stop to look at his reflection in the window outside the office. He can’t understand why there’s this burning pit in his stomach, but it doesn’t fade, even as he steps into his truck.
***
ii.
Finn doesn’t buy the Men’s Health Magazines for fun. They have really interesting articles in them. And sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he can find a picture of a half naked woman. Not that he really needs it.
Rachel’s been awesome, and ever since freshman year when they met up on break, it’s been just like it used to be back in high school, before. Before all that shit that went down in the hallway.
He hasn’t spoken to Puck since that day, which was actually harder than it sounds because Puck had been in Glee and Finn had been in Glee so they were bound to be in the same space sometimes.
But then graduation happened and Puck just kind of disappeared. Not that Finn was really worried or anything. He wasn’t. He just didn’t want the guy who used to share his goldfish crackers to be lying dead and decomposing in a ditch somewhere like those bodies Finn always sees on that show about the F.B.I. profilers.
He buys the magazines for the tips on losing weight and getting a workout routine that gives results. But one day he flips through it in the supermarket, waiting in the checkout line behind a grandma with blue hair. Why anyone would want their hair to be blue really makes no sense to Finn. Especially a grandma. It makes her head look a little bit like some of the blueberries that Rachel had tried to bake into their pancakes the weekend she came to visit him from N.Y.U.
Across the page from How to Have a One Night Stand - an article he has absolutely no interest in. Well, maybe a little bit, but only in the sense that maybe he and Rachel can do some role playing or something. She’d probably love that – is an advertisement. The guy is built, clean cut, and polished. His shirt is dark and unbuttoned around the collar. His watch is obviously expensive and he looks directly at the camera with this smirk on his face.
It’s not the smirk that strikes him first, though Finn’s definitely seen that before. It’s the hair and the fact that Puck has some in the picture. It’s not long by any means, but it’s not the Mohawk he sported for two years in high school, nor is it the shaved head he had for the rest. He’s selling some kind of foul smelling cologne, but he looks really great doing it.
The look on his face really says it all. This cologne and my hot body mean I’m getting laid right now while you read this magazine.
Finn believes it, too.
When he gets home he rips the ad out and puts it into a shoe box that he hides under his bed. It’s been five years, and maybe just maybe Finn is a little bit proud of Puck for doing something with his life.
***
From that point on, whenever he sees a new ad or campaign of Puck’s, he has to buy the magazine and add the picture to his collection. He doesn’t consider it stalking, just a really distant way of keeping track of his former whatever (friend, ex-friend, stranger - Finn’s not really sure what label to use).
Rachel finds the box one night while he’s at his Thursday night film class and she’s over visiting for the long weekend. She’s flipping through the stack of images and cologne samples when he walks in the door. His roommate is out at his weekly A.A. meeting, thank God. Finn can’t even imagine having this conversation with Dave there.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says as he drops his bag by the bed. There’s really no avoiding it. She’s got the evidence right there. “Well, maybe it is.” He presses a quick kiss on her lips, his gaze dropping down quickly to the pictures spread over her tiny skirt. He’s really glad that she never grew out of that particular trend. She looks super sexy sitting cross legged on his bed, her hair half pulled back and her eyes smudged with just a bit of black stuff. He really can’t wait to get her out of that skirt and sweater combo.
She puts her hand out for his, and he laces their fingers as she pulls him closer towards the bed. “I keep them, too,” she says quietly. Somehow those quiet words change the situation. She piles the pictures with her free hand and shifts so Finn can lie down beside her, Puck’s ads between them.
Hours later, Finn wakes up to see that his hand and Rachel’s have both come to rest on top of the pictures he’s been secretly collecting for months now, and somehow it feel like something inside him heals.
***
iii.
He’s in the cab on his way to meet Sandy Ryerson, his manager, at a midtown bar when he sees the billboard with his body plastered 100 feet in the air for everyone to see. They still display the ads for Figgins’ boxer-briefs. It was one of his first jobs and it had made him a household name. Puck smiles as they passed, taking a good look at the Puckzilla sized image of his body. No padding, no airbrushing. Yes, his cock is that hot.
He’d worked steadily since then, doing work for all the badass designers. Like Tanakasan’s fall Sports Wear collection. He’d even been scouted by Sylvester to do some kind of weird Cheerio thing. Puck didn’t really understand what Cheerios had to do with fashion, but he liked cereal as much as the next guy.
Puck is totally at the top of his game. All the women in this town want to fuck him, and some of the men do too. He’s totally equal opportunity. Besides, all the sex gives him this really awesome glow that the camera loves.
The cab stops as they arrive at the bar. Puck passes the guy a twenty and steps out. Before he can make it two steps, some teenage girl is bouncing up to him and yelling really loudly, asking for his autograph.
Yeah, he’s totally badass.
He signs it to her – maybe he writes something a little bit inappropriate, but whatever. He’s got eyes. And she’s hot - and walks into the bar quickly. The lights are low, hanging down from the ceiling, leaving the room in orange light. But that doesn’t stop Puck from interacting with the patrons. He knows at least half the people there. Mostly, he just waves or nods his head, but with a few of them, he shakes hands and has short little conversations.
When he finally makes it to the bar, he sits down on one of the red stools and orders a JD on the rocks.
“Noah!” Sandy Ryerson sits on the stool next to him seconds after the bartender sets down Puck’s drink. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Sandy puts a hand on Puck’s shoulder. It creeps him out a little bit. Ryerson isn’t hot. At all. And he’s also old enough to be Puck’s grandpa. Whatever, the dude is really good at lining up shoots, so Puck overlooks his less than awesome qualities.
“So about Schuester deal. William is looking for someone for his new skin and hair care line. I think you’d be absolutely perfect for it. You’ve got that whole perpetual bedhead thing going on. Besides, times are slow, Noah, and this account would mean exposure like you’ve never had or even seen.” Sandy sips gently from the fruit garnished pina colada he’d ordered. Puck can’t understand why he’d order such a frilly drink. That stuff doesn’t even taste like alcohol. It doesn’t burn the way that alcohol is supposed to.
“I get that. I’m game.” He’s been thinking about this campaign a lot since Sandy first mentioned it earlier last week. Schue’s line will bring him crazy exposure. Exposure equals fame, fame equals money and money – well – he can never have enough of that. Especially in New York City.
Plus, working for Schue would probably mean a new circle of willing pussy.
“You should know, Noah, you’re not the only model William is considering.” That gets Puck’s attention. He’s not used to be second best in anything, and he’s not about to start now.
“Who?”
There’s a long pause. Sandy swirls his straw in the icy mixture and blinks his eyelashes over Puck’s shoulder, presumably at his next target. Puck feels a little sick to his stomach at the thought of anyone being stupid enough to get with Sandy Ryerson. Whatever. Ugly people need love, too.
That’s not important. What is important is that he’s got competition. Noah Puckerman never has competition. He’s the most ridiculously good looking dude alive. Why would Schue want to use anyone else? Sure, maybe Puck is getting on in years, but he’s only like twenty three. That’s not even close to grandpa’s age in modelling terms. Maybe he’s right for the dad catalogue shots now, but his career is far from over.
“So who is the douche who’s trying to steal this job away from me?” Puck asks.
“Finn Hudson.”
“What the actual fuck?” Everything stops. Every conversation in the bar goes silent and Puck knows that all eyes are on him. It’s nothing he’s not used to.
He’s not actually concerned with that at all right now because his head is running through a ten year friendship ruined by a douchebag who couldn’t accept that he’d made a mistake. Puck doesn’t do that apology bullshit, but he’d tried it with Finn. He’d tried everything.
“Please watch your language, Noah. We’re in public and I have an image to maintain.” Sandy certainly does portray an image – creepy ass child molester – but they both know that Puck is already the badboy of the fashion world and this outburst will only help his rep.
“Finn Hudson? Finn Hudson from fucking Lima, Ohio? Finn Hudson who used to be my bro?” He slams his fist down on the bar hard enough to shake his glass. He picks it up and downs it before motioning to the bartender for another. The only sound between the two of them is the murmur of people resuming their conversations and the slurping sound of Sandy sucking his drink up the straw.
“Yes, that Finn Hudson.” Puck looks up and Sandy’s face looks kind of smug. Maybe the dude over by the corner has finally sent a ‘come hither’ signal to Ryerson or something. Puck honestly can’t think of another reason why he’d be so happy right now. Stupid fucking Finn. Always ruins everything.
“Shit.”
Sandy slides off his stool, clasping a hand on Puck’s shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it,” he says into Puck’s ear. “I’ll call you.”
Puck sits there, drinking until the bar is sticky with dried alcohol and drowning in memories of Lima, Ohio, Finn Hudson, and the girl who came between them.
***
When Sandy calls four days later, it’s not with good news.
***
iv.
He’s dressed in Valentino. The genius actually came out of retirement to create Puck’s outfit for the VH1 Fashion Awards. He’s won three years in a row now. And if stupid Finn and his stupid campaign for Schuester hadn’t shown up, he’d have this award in the bag. Hudson became a household name because of that campaign, and it should have been Puck’s.
Even with the name ‘Finn Hudson’ hanging like a dark cloud over his head, he’s still popular. The flashes of paparazzi cameras, and entertainment show reporters shoving microphones into his face, begging for a second of his time, are all things that haven’t changed. He strikes pose after pose on the red carpet, puckering his mouth into his well known “Puckzilla” pose.
Sandy meets him on the red carpet just as he’s starting an interview with Steve from E! News.
“Puck, you’ve been named “Male Model of the Year” three years running now. How do you feel about your chances tonight?”
Puck smiles into the camera. “I’m feeling pretty confident tonight, Steve. Not gonna lie to you. I’ve had a really awesome year and honestly, it’s an honour just to be nominated.”
“Hey Puck,” he hears someone yell. He turns to wink at Paris Hilton as she walks up the red carpet in a totally ridiculous dress. Girl is stick thin. She blows him a kiss, which he accepts with a small nod of his head. Even Puck isn’t stupid enough to tap that ass. She is not disease free.
“Noah has had a magnificent year,” Sandy says, grabbing at Steve’s microphone with one hand and placing the other on Puck’s shoulder in what should be a friendly gesture. To be honest, it creeps him out just a little bit. “Sandy Ryerson, Ryerson’s Models. Nobody can touch him here, nobody!” Puck watches as Sandy makes angry eyes at the camera and shakes off his hand. Seriously, the Puckerone does not need the clingy-ness of Ryerson right now.
“Puck, I understand you’re working on a new look for us, any chance of us getting a sneak peak at that?”
“Sorry Steve. ‘El Puckerone’ is nowhere ready yet.” He smirks, casually at the camera.
The crowd starts to cheer so he turns to wave, and there he is. Finn Hudson, sauntering down the red carpet dressed in some ridiculously tailored suit.
Puck hadn’t set eyes on him since graduation, aside from those ads that he always avoids. When they were both wearing those hideous black polyester robes with red and yellow mortarboards. They hadn’t spoken aside from a few pleasantries in Glee and Spanish class in Senior Year.
He looks just the same, that ridiculous bedhead hair and those thin lines around his eyes and mouth whenever he smiles. He still arches his eyebrow whenever his is confused, which is all the fucking time.
He can’t hear anything anymore. Not the crowds, or Sandy, or Steve.
And there’s totally this dark burning in his stomach, and he breaks out into a light sweat. He clenches and grinds his teeth, even as the cameras continue to go off. Yeah, Puck can totally see how Finn would make it in this business.
He’ll never be as hot as Puck, though.
Finn’s been working out. It’s not that unusual. Puck works out for three hours every day in the gym with a personal trainer. Yeah, he nailed her once or twice. She was super flexible and one of the whole chicks whose name he actually remembered: Santana. Even under the suit jacket, he can tell that the muscles of Finn’s arms are more defined than they had been in high school. And his hands are...
Being held by someone else.
His heart starts to beat fast, pounding in his chest.
She steps out from behind Finn, balancing on bright red toothpick heels that make her legs look insane. Her dress is Prada, black lace, and really short. Like if she bent over just a little bit he’d be able to see what panties she may or may not be wearing. He knows who she is. He’ll always know who she is.
He hasn’t seen her since he snuck out of her house the morning after Grad. He’d figured that coming five times that night had been as good a goodbye as any. And then he’d been on the next bus to NYC, with no regrets and all the money he’d saved from his pool cleaning business in his pocket.
Her lips are red and shiny, and her hair is curled and loose. Her eyes are smudged. She looks beautiful. Looking at her hurts him, a stabbing in his chest making it hard for him to breathe. His eyes take in as much of her as he can: the gentle slope of shoulder, black lace that ends high on her arm, and tan skin he memorized the feel of once. It all ends when Puck sees her hand wrapped tightly in Finn’s.
Pain shoots up from his stomach, like he’s been punched in the gut, radiating up and outward until his entire body stings.
How could he forgive her? How could he -
When Finn sees him staring, the plastered smile becomes even more fake. Rachel leans in close as he whispers something to her. To anyone watching from the sidelines it looks like they’re a couple madly in love.
But Puck knows them. He knows them so well. He can see the white tightening of Rachel’s hand on Finn’s, the glint off her ring as she pushes her hair away from her face and tucks her body closer to his, offering him support, offering it to Finn like she always did in high school.
Honestly, Puck really should have known that it would come to this.
Hudson is a hypocrite. Always has been. More importantly, tonight, he’s the competition. Puck follows the two of them, watching their perfect strides and their perfect couple-ness. Then at the last moment before they enter into the theatre, Rachel turns and looks right at him, pursing her lips in that way she always did when she was really nervous about something.
He can’t breathe.
He shrugs out of Sandy’s hold and follows Finn and Rachel – always Finn and Rachel – into the theatre.
A fan breaks through the barrier and runs towards Puck. She’s actually kinda hot so he almost lets her attack him, side stepping just at the last second so she can throw herself down at his feet, screaming and crying at him.
Yeah, that’s right. He’s awesome, and he’s going to win this bitch. He is. He’s Noah fucking Puckerman. Nobody is as hot as he is. Nobody.
***
He sits beside that totally hot chick from Alias. Yeah, her boobs are small, but she’s still hot. He’d do her. No question. He spends most of the show eyefucking her as much as possible.
When his award comes up, his palms are slick as he watches Finn’s face (and body) on the jumbotron screens. Finn’s segment is cute, if a little brainless. Then again, this is Finn, so the brainless thing shouldn’t be a shocker to anyone. Kid is dumb as a rock.
When Puck’s name and his face are plastered on the screen, he sits up straighter in his chair. He’s a ridiculously good looking motherfucker. He can’t help it really. Everything about the piece is perfection, from the early photos they used to the more recent underwear stuff he shot, – Fuck, his dick looked amazing there – to the little moments they clipped from his interview. The whole thing makes him sound amazing, which he is. Obviously.
They show a split screen with Finn, who’s still holding on to Rachel’s hand tightly, on one side, and Puck on the other, winking and making kissy lips at the camera. Four years in a row has never been done before, but this is his year. No doubt.
But the name Lenny Kravitz calls is not his own. And he watches with a slack jaw as Finn kisses Rachel deeply before walking calmly to the podium to accept.
Puck doesn’t remember any of Finn’s speech. Or the rest of the awards ceremony.
Or how he gets home.
He doesn’t even make it to the bedroom. He simply collapses on the living room couch, waiting for his life to rewind and restart.
***
v.
Finn brings Rachel with him. Partly because she refuses to stay and wait for him at home and partly because she can navigate cabbies around late night New York traffic like no one else. She’s better than a Tom-Tom. No lie. And way prettier. And better at sex, ‘cause Tom-Tom is a tiny machine and machine’s can’t have sex, except for in Terminator 5. That movie was awesome.
Anyway, Finn knows that there’s absolutely no way that he’s gonna be able to do this on his own. Maybe just a little bit is because the last time he even saw Puck was five years ago and he’s really not sure how this whole meeting thing is going to go.
What do you say to the guy who fucked your girlfriend then took off? Or the guy who showed you your very first naked woman in a dirty magazine? The guy who you’ve idolized since you were six, and who just lost a major award to you.
Not to mention the girl.
Finn almost turns around to run back to the cab Rachel’s paying for. Almost yells at her to hold it, but then he looks back at the heavy steel door and tells himself to man-up.
Funny that the voice in his head still sounds a lot like Puck after all this time.
She rings the buzzer before he has a chance to talk her out of it. Then they wait. It’s late summer, early September and the weather hasn’t quite turned to fall yet. The nights get cold though, and tonight is really no exception. Rachel only has these little tiny sleeves on her dress and her legs are bare and shiny with that bronze stuff she dusted all over herself. Finn pulls one arm out of his jacket, then the other, and places it on her shoulders.
It’s really the least he can do since she insisted on coming with him. Her hand covers his just as he starts to pull away and she looks up at him. It feels just like it always did in high school, that clenching around his heart, the way that everything else just seems to fade away a little bit when she’s in front of him.
Then a cab rolls by and pulls them both out of the moment.
She rings the doorbell again, and he starts to knock.
They almost give up again. He’s been knocking for a good five minutes and no one is answering. In fact, Finn is pretty sure that Puck’s neighbours are going to call the cops on them for causing a domestic disturbance or something. Finn wonders how much trouble he’d get into if he broke the door down. And just then, the door slides open.
He’s still dressed in his suit from earlier. It’s all rumpled and crinkly – Rachel would probably use a big word to describe it perfectly, but whatever – but really, Finn doesn’t think Puck’s ever looked better.
“What do you want?” he asks. Puck’s voice is rough, but Finn still feels that churning in his stomach and that thrill of adrenaline up his spine. After all this time, it’s still the same. And Finn still can’t explain where it’s coming from, only that it’s not a surprise because it seems to have always been that way whenever he was around Puck.
“I... uh...” He can’t remember. Shit. Why did he and Rachel decide to come here again? Oh yeah, because despite everything Finn misses –
“I’m sorry, can you speak up? I didn’t quite catch why you woke me up at two in the fucking morning. It must be a really good reason for you both to be here.” Finn can’t stop staring at him, the snarl of his mouth as he spits out the words, the way the wrinkled shirt’s olive colour picks up the green flecks in his eyes. Finn’s a little starstruck and a lot awed by just how beautiful his ex-best friend really is.
Maybe he always was, and Finn just never noticed it before.
“Finn insisted that we take a small detour to your apartment to insure that you were alright after tonight.” Rachel says. Finn loves that he can always rely on Rachel to say something to smooth things over.
“Why the fuck would you care? It’s not like either one of you has tried to get in touch with me since you moved into town.”
“We didn’t know how –“
“Can we please come up, Puck. Please?” Finn’s seen that look before. And yeah, he knows about the other times that Puck and Rachel were together. She doesn’t talk about it a lot, but she doesn’t hide it from him either. He can’t hate her for it because he never talks about Puck either. She has magical female powers, ones that can make guys like him and Puck do whatever she wants. So it’s really no surprise when she arches her chest out just a little bit and bites at her lip and Puck gives in.
The apartment isn’t huge, but Finn didn’t expect that it would be. The furniture is classic, dark leather couches and cherry wood accents. Puck has some pictures lined up on the shelving units. Photos of his mom and sister, some Latina chick who’s really kinda smokin’ hot, and pictures of himself in board shorts smiling in front of white sand dunes.
Then he sees it. It’s a picture of the three of them standing with their arms around each other after Nationals Junior Year. Back when he and Puck were still best friends, and when he and Rachel had been falling in love for the second time. They’re all looking at the camera and smiling so brightly. It had been a perfect day. Even if they hadn’t won, they’d made it all the way to the end, together. It was strange but he can see the way that Puck’s body leaned into Rachel’s in the photo . The way he stand between them with her hands wrapping around both of their waists. Puck was curved into her, his head tilted. He wonders why he didn’t see that sexy edge that Puck had with almost everyone then. Still has with everyone, but he should have seen it then, like he can see it in the photograph.
Like he can see it even now, as Rachel props herself up on the armrest of his couch, striking a relaxed yet completely sexual pose. Puck watches her as he comes back into the room, the sleep gone from his eyes and his cheeks freshly scrubbed and red. Finn plants his feet firmly in the carpeting.
“You kept this,” he says pointing to the photo he’s been studying to carefully, “all this time?”
“Obviously.” Puck says. Finn stares at the scowl on Puck’s face, the distance between them is more than just a few paces on a carpeted floor.
“Dude, what is the matter with you? We’re here because we care about you and you’re being a total asshole.”
“I’m being a total asshole,” he says. “That’s rich, Hudson. You’re the one who didn’t talk to me for like a fucking year and all because your girl couldn’t stay away from me. And can you really blame her?”
“Puck!” Rachel says, speaking up for the first time since entering the apartment. She’s wobbling just a little bit on her heels, but they’re sexy as hell and she refused to take them off while they were in the cab. “I won’t accept that kind of treatment. Not from you, not from anyone. Now you’re going to listen and pretend to be an adult about it because you owe me that much.” And Finn’s sure that she’s alluding to things he still doesn’t know about, but that’s okay. They both have secrets.
Puck sits down on the couch as far away from Rachel as he can get and leans back into the cushions. “Well then, what did you want to talk about?”
Finn looks back to the photograph, studying the shape of their mouths, the flecks of colour in their eyes. He can hear the ticking of his watch through the quiet in the room. It drags.
It’s Rachel that breaks the silence. “Why did you leave like that?” She sounds small, smaller than he’s ever heard her before.
“Well, Rach, I’d just lost the award and I didn’t feel much like partying with you and the Hud.” Puck sneers at her and Finn’s first reaction is to go over there and punch him. He knows that his girl can handle herself.
“Don’t be an ass,” she says quietly, so Finn stays where he is, fists clenching, until she continues. “You know that’s not what I meant. Why did you leave without telling me? Where did you go? Did you think that I wouldn’t worry?”
She’s not saying anything that Finn hasn’t wondered himself time and time again, but he’s never thought of saying them out loud.
“What was I supposed to say, Rachel? Hey baby, I know that we’ve been benefiting from our ‘friendship’ for the last five months, but I have to get out of Lima. Nothing personal. Would you even have believed that shit?” Benefiting? What kind of benefiting? He looks from Rachel to Puck and back again. It’s actually making his brain hurt a little.
“You left me in the middle of the night and didn’t so much as call to say goodbye. I’d been there for you and you treated me like I was garbage.” Rachel slides down so she’s sitting on the cushions as well, crosses her legs and turns her body towards Puck. Even from where he’s standing by the photos Finn can tell that she’s angry and hurt and maybe a little something else.
Finn is fighting against the urge to comfort her. He really can’t stand it when she looks like that, when she’s hurting at all. “Look-” Puck’s voice is softer now, and Finn almost feels a little bit like he’s intruding on a private conversation, but they both know that he’s in the room. So obviously that’s a silly thought. “I needed to leave. I needed to make something of myself, for at least a little while, and I honestly didn’t know where the fuck I was going to end up.” Puck shifts forward so his hands rest on his knees and continues after a pause. “Maybe it was the wrong decision, but it was the one I made. I can’t change it.”
Finn’s heart hurts at the confession. Apparently it hadn’t just been a fling. Apparently, it really was something. They cared about each other. It’s strange, but for the first time, in a really long time, he’s not jealous. Maybe it’s the girl, maybe it’s the ring on her finger, or maybe it’s something else.
Seeing Puck again, Finn realizes just how much he’s missed him. It’s a strange realization since they’ve been apart for five years. He’d thought that Rachel had been all that he’d needed. But he knows now that he was missing male companionship. More than that, Puck’s friendship specifically. Finn missed his humour and his laugh, his snark and smile and -
“Why have you been so weird with me, Puck? We’ve been living in the same town for months now, travelling in the same circles.” His eyes slide past Puck’s body to the left and into the kitchen. It’s a habit he never really outgrew. He’s never really been able to confront people and stare them down at the same time. His palms start to sweat as he waits for his answer. His watch seems to slow down, the ticking more pronounced with longer pauses between.
“How could you forgive her but not me?” Puck looks up at him and Finn can’t look away. There’s something there, in his face, maybe even just in his eyes. Something different but he can’t figure out what it is. He scrunches up his nose and thinks. Things had changed after Quinn. Not necessarily in a bad way, they’d just been different. Maybe even stronger. Then that night he’d gone to Rachel’s and she’d been there. And somehow he’d just known. Like he could smell more than just the sex, sweat and hormones. He’d known that it had been Puck before he’d seen the marks on Rachel’s shoulder, dark red bruises made by Puck’s mouth on her skin. And even though it hurt him, somehow in the back of his mind he’d known that this was inevitable.
“I didn’t know what to say to you, Puck. I was really angry for a long time. You stole my girl twice, dude, was I supposed to throw you a party?” He inhales slowly, thinking carefully about what he wants to say now that he has the chance. “Then I was over it and you were gone.”
“I didn’t steal Quinn. And you and Rachel were –“
“You were gone, dude. You know, the first time I saw you in a magazine, I ripped out the picture and kept it. You wanna know what I thought seeing you there?” He steps closer to Puck, who stands up, with his fists bunched at his sides. “Thank God he’s alive.”
Puck’s eyes widen. Finn thinks he might be shocked, and doesn’t really understand why. “I kept collecting them, dude. Every time I saw you in something new, I cut it out and saved it. You’re the reason I wanted to be a model.”
Rachel stands up then, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly and smiles down at her. His girl always knows what he needs. He feels stronger with her there.
“Seriously?” Puck asks after a few moments and Finn turns to look at him.
He can’t say anything. He really doesn’t have the words right now, but Rachel nods her head. “We were both so proud of you, Noah,” she says quietly.
She leans forward and presses a kiss to Puck’s mouth, chaste and quiet, but something shifts. Her mouth is moving on Puck and her hand slides down Finn’s arm until their fingers link, and she pulls him closer. Then she backs off them entirely, and somehow Finn is hugging Puck and it’s just like that time when he fell off the swing when he was six, and Puck rushed over to see if he was okay, except there’s a lot less blood this time. He smells the spice of soap on Puck’s skin and buries his face in Puck’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
He didn’t really understand before this moment how much was really missing.
It feels really good right now. Holding his friend and being held. It’s a little bit like he’s being healed.
Eventually Puck grabs some beer from the fridge and all three of them try to work through the bottles and the years they’ve missed. They catch up, and it’s not awkward like it could have been, aside from the parts where Beth gets mentioned, but that was a bit expected. Puck talks about the Latina chick a little bit, saying that she’s his personal trainer. His exact words were something like, “chick is into physical torture like nobody else, but she gets results.”
When Rachel kicks off her shoes, Finn almost wishes she hadn’t. He wanted to fuck her at least once while she was wearing them.
At four o’clock She stacks her empty bottle beside the others on the coffee table and pulls Finn up off his chair. She kisses him and she tastes so good. Beer and Rachel have always been two of his favourite things, right after sex. He’s pretty sure that Puck can say the exact same thing. By the time he pulls away for air, he sees that Puck is watching them without blinking. Maybe his eyes are soft because of the booze, or because of the light, or maybe it’s something else.
Whatever it is, Finn is sure that Rachel is going to take advantage of it. He’s not surprised when she kisses Puck the same way, sliding her tongue past his lips. He feels heat pull from the base of his spine all the way around to where his pants are starting to feel tight.
“Remember when we were in high school,” Rachel whispers, “ and Mr. Schuester’s friend made us write down our dreams. Remember when we shared them?” She pulls Puck up off the couch and walks around so that Finn is standing right beside him. “Did you ever get what you always dreamed?” She’s so short, but still her breath manages to tickle the space along Finn’s neck (hot and wet and oh God, mailman!), and he’s sure that Puck is feeling it too. The heat of arousal and the giddiness of alcohol mixing as Rachel runs her hands down their arms until she has one of Finn’s hands and one of Puck’s. She walks them towards Puck’s bedroom.
***
Rachel isn’t in the bed when Finn wakes up, but she likes to wake up early, so it’s not a big deal. He’s used to it. What he’s not used to is the feeling of an arm draped over him that isn’t hers. Rough fingers trace little circles on his hip, and he twitches, heat gathering low in his abdomen. He opens his eyes slowly, taking in the shadow on Puck’s cheek, the twist to his lips, the reddish bruises on his neck and shoulders where either Finn or Rachel attached with a little too much force. Finn shivers with the anticipation of seeing similar bruises on his own body. He might even need to use the sheer foundation to cover-up the marks before his next shoot. The thought shouldn’t make him as happy as it does.
“Last night was totally dope, man.” Puck says as he inches forward so his nose brushes against Finn’s. It’s seriously like the most erotic thing that has ever happened between Finn and another dude. Ever.
“Yeah, it was,” he says, and brushes his lips over Puck’s until Puck opens his mouth and allows Finn’s tongue to slide inside. “Dude, your morning breath is rank. And you have to quit smoking. That shit is bad for your health. Plus Rachel kinda hates it.”
Puck doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then he settles his body direct on top of Finn’s. “Whatever. My morning breath is totally sexy.” Finn groans as he hears the coffee grinder coming from the kitchen. He’s not sure if it’s because he can feel Puck hard against his thigh, or because Puck’s tongue is doing wicked things to his mouth, or maybe a little bit is actually because coffee is awesome. But it doesn’t really matter.
When Puck’s hand wraps around him, and his mouth starts to slide down Finn’s jaw he doesn’t care at all.
“Should we wait for Rachel?” He says heavily as his body starts to really wake up under Puck’s hands.
Puck laughs and Finn supposes that’s answer enough.
***
When Rachel comes in five minutes later with three cups of coffee she sets them on the night stand and crawls onto the bed.
She can always reheat them later.
Author:
becca_radcggMovie Adapted: Zoolander
Characters/Pairings: Puck, Finn, Rachel (Puck/Rachel, Finn/Rachel, Puck/Rachel/Finn, Puck/Finn), Sandy Ryerson, random teenage girl, and others
Rating: R
Word Count: ~ 7300
Notes/Credits: Thanks to: A-star, I could not have written this without you (you know this to be true).
auchic for bitching that I could do it. Both times. gubeldood208 for being the most awesome cheerleader ever. And to everyone else who listened to be bitch and moan about this fic in all of it’s incarnations over the last month.This fic turned into a srs bsns fic. Just so you’re warned.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit. Written for the
reel_glee challenge.Summary: Future fic. Somehow all their lives have been about each other, Puck, Finn and Rachel. Even when they weren’t together.
i.
They break up on a sunny Tuesday afternoon with the entire Glee Club watching just a step away. Honestly Puck doesn’t really know what the fuck they’re fighting about. He just knows that he is right and Finn sure as shit isn’t.
And they’re not really breaking up because it’s not like they’re dating or fucking or whatever. They’re just bros, have been bros for a long time, and Puck can’t see a way out of this.
Finn’s yelling and kicking chairs, just like he did when Quinn up and lied about being his baby momma for like seven months. But Puck’s pretty sure – like at least eighty percent – that this fight has nothing to do with someone being knocked up, or Puck sleeping with Finn’s girlfriend. Puck hasn’t gone near Rachel.
Well, okay, maybe there was that one time, but Rachel was really drunk and she kept saying – maybe in slurred words – that she and Finn were done. How was Puck supposed to know that Rachel saying they were done and them actually being done were two totally different things? He’s not a psychic. He doesn’t read minds.
They’d talked, too. It hadn’t all been sex and booze. She’d told him she was going to be a Broadway star, and he’d confided in her too. People were always telling him how hot he was, so he’d taken some head shots and sent them off to some places in New York. Was there a better career for him than being really, really ridiculously good looking and getting paid for it? Maybe they’d shared something and then that had turned into Rachel stripping for him and then some really freaky sex. Really good freaky sex.
And maybe he didn’t tell Finn about it, but neither did Rachel, because they both knew, it was just that one night. It was never going to be anything else. It’s not like either one of them was thinking ‘hey, let’s think of a really great way to fuck up Finn’s shit’ or something. They were just two lonely, drunk, horny people alone in a big house. With condoms.
What was Puck supposed to do?
“Taking Quinn wasn’t enough for you?” Finn screams at the top of his lungs, and the dude has the gift of projection. Puck thinks that he must have picked that trick up from Glee and Mr. Schue. “How could you do this to me again, Puck? I mean, after all the shit we went through last time...”
There’s a little bit of a crowd forming, not just of the Glee kids now, but of other people too. Students who’ve gotten out of fourth period just in time to see the show.
“You knew how I felt about her, man. You knew and you did it anyway.” If there were a chair, Puck thinks Finn would probably have kicked it then. It’s not even that hot inside the school but the sweat is collecting at the base of his neck. He can tell because his shirt is sticking to his back, and he’s mostly sure it has nothing to do with Finn’s fists clenched, white and shaking.
“Look, what do you want me to say to you?” Puck tries to remember that maybe he deserves this. Just like last time. “You want me to tell you that I fucked up? You want me to tell you all the sordid details?” He steps closer because he can’t back down from this. If Finn is going to hit him, he’s going to take it straight on. None of this “in the back” shit. “You want me to tell you how many times she came?”
He realizes after Finn’s fist flies at his face that clenching his jaw was probably not the best idea. He doesn’t fall though, just staggers back a little bit. To be honest, Finn’s right hook has improved a lot since the last time.
“We’re done here.” Finn says as he shakes out his hand. The scary thing isn’t the words. Puck’s heard those words before, many times. It’s the completely vacant expression. Finn isn’t there anymore. Instead there’s like this Finn shaped shell standing in front of him with dead eyes and loose hands.
He doesn’t even care enough to punch or hit or yell. And it’s not like Puck didn’t know that this was serious, but people make mistakes. He makes mistakes. Finn’s always forgiven him before, but –
“You were broken up, man. Besides, it takes two.” He cups the side of his jaw in his hand and walks away.
He doesn’t even stop to look at his reflection in the window outside the office. He can’t understand why there’s this burning pit in his stomach, but it doesn’t fade, even as he steps into his truck.
***
ii.
Finn doesn’t buy the Men’s Health Magazines for fun. They have really interesting articles in them. And sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he can find a picture of a half naked woman. Not that he really needs it.
Rachel’s been awesome, and ever since freshman year when they met up on break, it’s been just like it used to be back in high school, before. Before all that shit that went down in the hallway.
He hasn’t spoken to Puck since that day, which was actually harder than it sounds because Puck had been in Glee and Finn had been in Glee so they were bound to be in the same space sometimes.
But then graduation happened and Puck just kind of disappeared. Not that Finn was really worried or anything. He wasn’t. He just didn’t want the guy who used to share his goldfish crackers to be lying dead and decomposing in a ditch somewhere like those bodies Finn always sees on that show about the F.B.I. profilers.
He buys the magazines for the tips on losing weight and getting a workout routine that gives results. But one day he flips through it in the supermarket, waiting in the checkout line behind a grandma with blue hair. Why anyone would want their hair to be blue really makes no sense to Finn. Especially a grandma. It makes her head look a little bit like some of the blueberries that Rachel had tried to bake into their pancakes the weekend she came to visit him from N.Y.U.
Across the page from How to Have a One Night Stand - an article he has absolutely no interest in. Well, maybe a little bit, but only in the sense that maybe he and Rachel can do some role playing or something. She’d probably love that – is an advertisement. The guy is built, clean cut, and polished. His shirt is dark and unbuttoned around the collar. His watch is obviously expensive and he looks directly at the camera with this smirk on his face.
It’s not the smirk that strikes him first, though Finn’s definitely seen that before. It’s the hair and the fact that Puck has some in the picture. It’s not long by any means, but it’s not the Mohawk he sported for two years in high school, nor is it the shaved head he had for the rest. He’s selling some kind of foul smelling cologne, but he looks really great doing it.
The look on his face really says it all. This cologne and my hot body mean I’m getting laid right now while you read this magazine.
Finn believes it, too.
When he gets home he rips the ad out and puts it into a shoe box that he hides under his bed. It’s been five years, and maybe just maybe Finn is a little bit proud of Puck for doing something with his life.
***
From that point on, whenever he sees a new ad or campaign of Puck’s, he has to buy the magazine and add the picture to his collection. He doesn’t consider it stalking, just a really distant way of keeping track of his former whatever (friend, ex-friend, stranger - Finn’s not really sure what label to use).
Rachel finds the box one night while he’s at his Thursday night film class and she’s over visiting for the long weekend. She’s flipping through the stack of images and cologne samples when he walks in the door. His roommate is out at his weekly A.A. meeting, thank God. Finn can’t even imagine having this conversation with Dave there.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says as he drops his bag by the bed. There’s really no avoiding it. She’s got the evidence right there. “Well, maybe it is.” He presses a quick kiss on her lips, his gaze dropping down quickly to the pictures spread over her tiny skirt. He’s really glad that she never grew out of that particular trend. She looks super sexy sitting cross legged on his bed, her hair half pulled back and her eyes smudged with just a bit of black stuff. He really can’t wait to get her out of that skirt and sweater combo.
She puts her hand out for his, and he laces their fingers as she pulls him closer towards the bed. “I keep them, too,” she says quietly. Somehow those quiet words change the situation. She piles the pictures with her free hand and shifts so Finn can lie down beside her, Puck’s ads between them.
Hours later, Finn wakes up to see that his hand and Rachel’s have both come to rest on top of the pictures he’s been secretly collecting for months now, and somehow it feel like something inside him heals.
***
iii.
He’s in the cab on his way to meet Sandy Ryerson, his manager, at a midtown bar when he sees the billboard with his body plastered 100 feet in the air for everyone to see. They still display the ads for Figgins’ boxer-briefs. It was one of his first jobs and it had made him a household name. Puck smiles as they passed, taking a good look at the Puckzilla sized image of his body. No padding, no airbrushing. Yes, his cock is that hot.
He’d worked steadily since then, doing work for all the badass designers. Like Tanakasan’s fall Sports Wear collection. He’d even been scouted by Sylvester to do some kind of weird Cheerio thing. Puck didn’t really understand what Cheerios had to do with fashion, but he liked cereal as much as the next guy.
Puck is totally at the top of his game. All the women in this town want to fuck him, and some of the men do too. He’s totally equal opportunity. Besides, all the sex gives him this really awesome glow that the camera loves.
The cab stops as they arrive at the bar. Puck passes the guy a twenty and steps out. Before he can make it two steps, some teenage girl is bouncing up to him and yelling really loudly, asking for his autograph.
Yeah, he’s totally badass.
He signs it to her – maybe he writes something a little bit inappropriate, but whatever. He’s got eyes. And she’s hot - and walks into the bar quickly. The lights are low, hanging down from the ceiling, leaving the room in orange light. But that doesn’t stop Puck from interacting with the patrons. He knows at least half the people there. Mostly, he just waves or nods his head, but with a few of them, he shakes hands and has short little conversations.
When he finally makes it to the bar, he sits down on one of the red stools and orders a JD on the rocks.
“Noah!” Sandy Ryerson sits on the stool next to him seconds after the bartender sets down Puck’s drink. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Sandy puts a hand on Puck’s shoulder. It creeps him out a little bit. Ryerson isn’t hot. At all. And he’s also old enough to be Puck’s grandpa. Whatever, the dude is really good at lining up shoots, so Puck overlooks his less than awesome qualities.
“So about Schuester deal. William is looking for someone for his new skin and hair care line. I think you’d be absolutely perfect for it. You’ve got that whole perpetual bedhead thing going on. Besides, times are slow, Noah, and this account would mean exposure like you’ve never had or even seen.” Sandy sips gently from the fruit garnished pina colada he’d ordered. Puck can’t understand why he’d order such a frilly drink. That stuff doesn’t even taste like alcohol. It doesn’t burn the way that alcohol is supposed to.
“I get that. I’m game.” He’s been thinking about this campaign a lot since Sandy first mentioned it earlier last week. Schue’s line will bring him crazy exposure. Exposure equals fame, fame equals money and money – well – he can never have enough of that. Especially in New York City.
Plus, working for Schue would probably mean a new circle of willing pussy.
“You should know, Noah, you’re not the only model William is considering.” That gets Puck’s attention. He’s not used to be second best in anything, and he’s not about to start now.
“Who?”
There’s a long pause. Sandy swirls his straw in the icy mixture and blinks his eyelashes over Puck’s shoulder, presumably at his next target. Puck feels a little sick to his stomach at the thought of anyone being stupid enough to get with Sandy Ryerson. Whatever. Ugly people need love, too.
That’s not important. What is important is that he’s got competition. Noah Puckerman never has competition. He’s the most ridiculously good looking dude alive. Why would Schue want to use anyone else? Sure, maybe Puck is getting on in years, but he’s only like twenty three. That’s not even close to grandpa’s age in modelling terms. Maybe he’s right for the dad catalogue shots now, but his career is far from over.
“So who is the douche who’s trying to steal this job away from me?” Puck asks.
“Finn Hudson.”
“What the actual fuck?” Everything stops. Every conversation in the bar goes silent and Puck knows that all eyes are on him. It’s nothing he’s not used to.
He’s not actually concerned with that at all right now because his head is running through a ten year friendship ruined by a douchebag who couldn’t accept that he’d made a mistake. Puck doesn’t do that apology bullshit, but he’d tried it with Finn. He’d tried everything.
“Please watch your language, Noah. We’re in public and I have an image to maintain.” Sandy certainly does portray an image – creepy ass child molester – but they both know that Puck is already the badboy of the fashion world and this outburst will only help his rep.
“Finn Hudson? Finn Hudson from fucking Lima, Ohio? Finn Hudson who used to be my bro?” He slams his fist down on the bar hard enough to shake his glass. He picks it up and downs it before motioning to the bartender for another. The only sound between the two of them is the murmur of people resuming their conversations and the slurping sound of Sandy sucking his drink up the straw.
“Yes, that Finn Hudson.” Puck looks up and Sandy’s face looks kind of smug. Maybe the dude over by the corner has finally sent a ‘come hither’ signal to Ryerson or something. Puck honestly can’t think of another reason why he’d be so happy right now. Stupid fucking Finn. Always ruins everything.
“Shit.”
Sandy slides off his stool, clasping a hand on Puck’s shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it,” he says into Puck’s ear. “I’ll call you.”
Puck sits there, drinking until the bar is sticky with dried alcohol and drowning in memories of Lima, Ohio, Finn Hudson, and the girl who came between them.
***
When Sandy calls four days later, it’s not with good news.
***
iv.
He’s dressed in Valentino. The genius actually came out of retirement to create Puck’s outfit for the VH1 Fashion Awards. He’s won three years in a row now. And if stupid Finn and his stupid campaign for Schuester hadn’t shown up, he’d have this award in the bag. Hudson became a household name because of that campaign, and it should have been Puck’s.
Even with the name ‘Finn Hudson’ hanging like a dark cloud over his head, he’s still popular. The flashes of paparazzi cameras, and entertainment show reporters shoving microphones into his face, begging for a second of his time, are all things that haven’t changed. He strikes pose after pose on the red carpet, puckering his mouth into his well known “Puckzilla” pose.
Sandy meets him on the red carpet just as he’s starting an interview with Steve from E! News.
“Puck, you’ve been named “Male Model of the Year” three years running now. How do you feel about your chances tonight?”
Puck smiles into the camera. “I’m feeling pretty confident tonight, Steve. Not gonna lie to you. I’ve had a really awesome year and honestly, it’s an honour just to be nominated.”
“Hey Puck,” he hears someone yell. He turns to wink at Paris Hilton as she walks up the red carpet in a totally ridiculous dress. Girl is stick thin. She blows him a kiss, which he accepts with a small nod of his head. Even Puck isn’t stupid enough to tap that ass. She is not disease free.
“Noah has had a magnificent year,” Sandy says, grabbing at Steve’s microphone with one hand and placing the other on Puck’s shoulder in what should be a friendly gesture. To be honest, it creeps him out just a little bit. “Sandy Ryerson, Ryerson’s Models. Nobody can touch him here, nobody!” Puck watches as Sandy makes angry eyes at the camera and shakes off his hand. Seriously, the Puckerone does not need the clingy-ness of Ryerson right now.
“Puck, I understand you’re working on a new look for us, any chance of us getting a sneak peak at that?”
“Sorry Steve. ‘El Puckerone’ is nowhere ready yet.” He smirks, casually at the camera.
The crowd starts to cheer so he turns to wave, and there he is. Finn Hudson, sauntering down the red carpet dressed in some ridiculously tailored suit.
Puck hadn’t set eyes on him since graduation, aside from those ads that he always avoids. When they were both wearing those hideous black polyester robes with red and yellow mortarboards. They hadn’t spoken aside from a few pleasantries in Glee and Spanish class in Senior Year.
He looks just the same, that ridiculous bedhead hair and those thin lines around his eyes and mouth whenever he smiles. He still arches his eyebrow whenever his is confused, which is all the fucking time.
He can’t hear anything anymore. Not the crowds, or Sandy, or Steve.
And there’s totally this dark burning in his stomach, and he breaks out into a light sweat. He clenches and grinds his teeth, even as the cameras continue to go off. Yeah, Puck can totally see how Finn would make it in this business.
He’ll never be as hot as Puck, though.
Finn’s been working out. It’s not that unusual. Puck works out for three hours every day in the gym with a personal trainer. Yeah, he nailed her once or twice. She was super flexible and one of the whole chicks whose name he actually remembered: Santana. Even under the suit jacket, he can tell that the muscles of Finn’s arms are more defined than they had been in high school. And his hands are...
Being held by someone else.
His heart starts to beat fast, pounding in his chest.
She steps out from behind Finn, balancing on bright red toothpick heels that make her legs look insane. Her dress is Prada, black lace, and really short. Like if she bent over just a little bit he’d be able to see what panties she may or may not be wearing. He knows who she is. He’ll always know who she is.
He hasn’t seen her since he snuck out of her house the morning after Grad. He’d figured that coming five times that night had been as good a goodbye as any. And then he’d been on the next bus to NYC, with no regrets and all the money he’d saved from his pool cleaning business in his pocket.
Her lips are red and shiny, and her hair is curled and loose. Her eyes are smudged. She looks beautiful. Looking at her hurts him, a stabbing in his chest making it hard for him to breathe. His eyes take in as much of her as he can: the gentle slope of shoulder, black lace that ends high on her arm, and tan skin he memorized the feel of once. It all ends when Puck sees her hand wrapped tightly in Finn’s.
Pain shoots up from his stomach, like he’s been punched in the gut, radiating up and outward until his entire body stings.
How could he forgive her? How could he -
When Finn sees him staring, the plastered smile becomes even more fake. Rachel leans in close as he whispers something to her. To anyone watching from the sidelines it looks like they’re a couple madly in love.
But Puck knows them. He knows them so well. He can see the white tightening of Rachel’s hand on Finn’s, the glint off her ring as she pushes her hair away from her face and tucks her body closer to his, offering him support, offering it to Finn like she always did in high school.
Honestly, Puck really should have known that it would come to this.
Hudson is a hypocrite. Always has been. More importantly, tonight, he’s the competition. Puck follows the two of them, watching their perfect strides and their perfect couple-ness. Then at the last moment before they enter into the theatre, Rachel turns and looks right at him, pursing her lips in that way she always did when she was really nervous about something.
He can’t breathe.
He shrugs out of Sandy’s hold and follows Finn and Rachel – always Finn and Rachel – into the theatre.
A fan breaks through the barrier and runs towards Puck. She’s actually kinda hot so he almost lets her attack him, side stepping just at the last second so she can throw herself down at his feet, screaming and crying at him.
Yeah, that’s right. He’s awesome, and he’s going to win this bitch. He is. He’s Noah fucking Puckerman. Nobody is as hot as he is. Nobody.
***
He sits beside that totally hot chick from Alias. Yeah, her boobs are small, but she’s still hot. He’d do her. No question. He spends most of the show eyefucking her as much as possible.
When his award comes up, his palms are slick as he watches Finn’s face (and body) on the jumbotron screens. Finn’s segment is cute, if a little brainless. Then again, this is Finn, so the brainless thing shouldn’t be a shocker to anyone. Kid is dumb as a rock.
When Puck’s name and his face are plastered on the screen, he sits up straighter in his chair. He’s a ridiculously good looking motherfucker. He can’t help it really. Everything about the piece is perfection, from the early photos they used to the more recent underwear stuff he shot, – Fuck, his dick looked amazing there – to the little moments they clipped from his interview. The whole thing makes him sound amazing, which he is. Obviously.
They show a split screen with Finn, who’s still holding on to Rachel’s hand tightly, on one side, and Puck on the other, winking and making kissy lips at the camera. Four years in a row has never been done before, but this is his year. No doubt.
But the name Lenny Kravitz calls is not his own. And he watches with a slack jaw as Finn kisses Rachel deeply before walking calmly to the podium to accept.
Puck doesn’t remember any of Finn’s speech. Or the rest of the awards ceremony.
Or how he gets home.
He doesn’t even make it to the bedroom. He simply collapses on the living room couch, waiting for his life to rewind and restart.
***
v.
Finn brings Rachel with him. Partly because she refuses to stay and wait for him at home and partly because she can navigate cabbies around late night New York traffic like no one else. She’s better than a Tom-Tom. No lie. And way prettier. And better at sex, ‘cause Tom-Tom is a tiny machine and machine’s can’t have sex, except for in Terminator 5. That movie was awesome.
Anyway, Finn knows that there’s absolutely no way that he’s gonna be able to do this on his own. Maybe just a little bit is because the last time he even saw Puck was five years ago and he’s really not sure how this whole meeting thing is going to go.
What do you say to the guy who fucked your girlfriend then took off? Or the guy who showed you your very first naked woman in a dirty magazine? The guy who you’ve idolized since you were six, and who just lost a major award to you.
Not to mention the girl.
Finn almost turns around to run back to the cab Rachel’s paying for. Almost yells at her to hold it, but then he looks back at the heavy steel door and tells himself to man-up.
Funny that the voice in his head still sounds a lot like Puck after all this time.
She rings the buzzer before he has a chance to talk her out of it. Then they wait. It’s late summer, early September and the weather hasn’t quite turned to fall yet. The nights get cold though, and tonight is really no exception. Rachel only has these little tiny sleeves on her dress and her legs are bare and shiny with that bronze stuff she dusted all over herself. Finn pulls one arm out of his jacket, then the other, and places it on her shoulders.
It’s really the least he can do since she insisted on coming with him. Her hand covers his just as he starts to pull away and she looks up at him. It feels just like it always did in high school, that clenching around his heart, the way that everything else just seems to fade away a little bit when she’s in front of him.
Then a cab rolls by and pulls them both out of the moment.
She rings the doorbell again, and he starts to knock.
They almost give up again. He’s been knocking for a good five minutes and no one is answering. In fact, Finn is pretty sure that Puck’s neighbours are going to call the cops on them for causing a domestic disturbance or something. Finn wonders how much trouble he’d get into if he broke the door down. And just then, the door slides open.
He’s still dressed in his suit from earlier. It’s all rumpled and crinkly – Rachel would probably use a big word to describe it perfectly, but whatever – but really, Finn doesn’t think Puck’s ever looked better.
“What do you want?” he asks. Puck’s voice is rough, but Finn still feels that churning in his stomach and that thrill of adrenaline up his spine. After all this time, it’s still the same. And Finn still can’t explain where it’s coming from, only that it’s not a surprise because it seems to have always been that way whenever he was around Puck.
“I... uh...” He can’t remember. Shit. Why did he and Rachel decide to come here again? Oh yeah, because despite everything Finn misses –
“I’m sorry, can you speak up? I didn’t quite catch why you woke me up at two in the fucking morning. It must be a really good reason for you both to be here.” Finn can’t stop staring at him, the snarl of his mouth as he spits out the words, the way the wrinkled shirt’s olive colour picks up the green flecks in his eyes. Finn’s a little starstruck and a lot awed by just how beautiful his ex-best friend really is.
Maybe he always was, and Finn just never noticed it before.
“Finn insisted that we take a small detour to your apartment to insure that you were alright after tonight.” Rachel says. Finn loves that he can always rely on Rachel to say something to smooth things over.
“Why the fuck would you care? It’s not like either one of you has tried to get in touch with me since you moved into town.”
“We didn’t know how –“
“Can we please come up, Puck. Please?” Finn’s seen that look before. And yeah, he knows about the other times that Puck and Rachel were together. She doesn’t talk about it a lot, but she doesn’t hide it from him either. He can’t hate her for it because he never talks about Puck either. She has magical female powers, ones that can make guys like him and Puck do whatever she wants. So it’s really no surprise when she arches her chest out just a little bit and bites at her lip and Puck gives in.
The apartment isn’t huge, but Finn didn’t expect that it would be. The furniture is classic, dark leather couches and cherry wood accents. Puck has some pictures lined up on the shelving units. Photos of his mom and sister, some Latina chick who’s really kinda smokin’ hot, and pictures of himself in board shorts smiling in front of white sand dunes.
Then he sees it. It’s a picture of the three of them standing with their arms around each other after Nationals Junior Year. Back when he and Puck were still best friends, and when he and Rachel had been falling in love for the second time. They’re all looking at the camera and smiling so brightly. It had been a perfect day. Even if they hadn’t won, they’d made it all the way to the end, together. It was strange but he can see the way that Puck’s body leaned into Rachel’s in the photo . The way he stand between them with her hands wrapping around both of their waists. Puck was curved into her, his head tilted. He wonders why he didn’t see that sexy edge that Puck had with almost everyone then. Still has with everyone, but he should have seen it then, like he can see it in the photograph.
Like he can see it even now, as Rachel props herself up on the armrest of his couch, striking a relaxed yet completely sexual pose. Puck watches her as he comes back into the room, the sleep gone from his eyes and his cheeks freshly scrubbed and red. Finn plants his feet firmly in the carpeting.
“You kept this,” he says pointing to the photo he’s been studying to carefully, “all this time?”
“Obviously.” Puck says. Finn stares at the scowl on Puck’s face, the distance between them is more than just a few paces on a carpeted floor.
“Dude, what is the matter with you? We’re here because we care about you and you’re being a total asshole.”
“I’m being a total asshole,” he says. “That’s rich, Hudson. You’re the one who didn’t talk to me for like a fucking year and all because your girl couldn’t stay away from me. And can you really blame her?”
“Puck!” Rachel says, speaking up for the first time since entering the apartment. She’s wobbling just a little bit on her heels, but they’re sexy as hell and she refused to take them off while they were in the cab. “I won’t accept that kind of treatment. Not from you, not from anyone. Now you’re going to listen and pretend to be an adult about it because you owe me that much.” And Finn’s sure that she’s alluding to things he still doesn’t know about, but that’s okay. They both have secrets.
Puck sits down on the couch as far away from Rachel as he can get and leans back into the cushions. “Well then, what did you want to talk about?”
Finn looks back to the photograph, studying the shape of their mouths, the flecks of colour in their eyes. He can hear the ticking of his watch through the quiet in the room. It drags.
It’s Rachel that breaks the silence. “Why did you leave like that?” She sounds small, smaller than he’s ever heard her before.
“Well, Rach, I’d just lost the award and I didn’t feel much like partying with you and the Hud.” Puck sneers at her and Finn’s first reaction is to go over there and punch him. He knows that his girl can handle herself.
“Don’t be an ass,” she says quietly, so Finn stays where he is, fists clenching, until she continues. “You know that’s not what I meant. Why did you leave without telling me? Where did you go? Did you think that I wouldn’t worry?”
She’s not saying anything that Finn hasn’t wondered himself time and time again, but he’s never thought of saying them out loud.
“What was I supposed to say, Rachel? Hey baby, I know that we’ve been benefiting from our ‘friendship’ for the last five months, but I have to get out of Lima. Nothing personal. Would you even have believed that shit?” Benefiting? What kind of benefiting? He looks from Rachel to Puck and back again. It’s actually making his brain hurt a little.
“You left me in the middle of the night and didn’t so much as call to say goodbye. I’d been there for you and you treated me like I was garbage.” Rachel slides down so she’s sitting on the cushions as well, crosses her legs and turns her body towards Puck. Even from where he’s standing by the photos Finn can tell that she’s angry and hurt and maybe a little something else.
Finn is fighting against the urge to comfort her. He really can’t stand it when she looks like that, when she’s hurting at all. “Look-” Puck’s voice is softer now, and Finn almost feels a little bit like he’s intruding on a private conversation, but they both know that he’s in the room. So obviously that’s a silly thought. “I needed to leave. I needed to make something of myself, for at least a little while, and I honestly didn’t know where the fuck I was going to end up.” Puck shifts forward so his hands rest on his knees and continues after a pause. “Maybe it was the wrong decision, but it was the one I made. I can’t change it.”
Finn’s heart hurts at the confession. Apparently it hadn’t just been a fling. Apparently, it really was something. They cared about each other. It’s strange, but for the first time, in a really long time, he’s not jealous. Maybe it’s the girl, maybe it’s the ring on her finger, or maybe it’s something else.
Seeing Puck again, Finn realizes just how much he’s missed him. It’s a strange realization since they’ve been apart for five years. He’d thought that Rachel had been all that he’d needed. But he knows now that he was missing male companionship. More than that, Puck’s friendship specifically. Finn missed his humour and his laugh, his snark and smile and -
“Why have you been so weird with me, Puck? We’ve been living in the same town for months now, travelling in the same circles.” His eyes slide past Puck’s body to the left and into the kitchen. It’s a habit he never really outgrew. He’s never really been able to confront people and stare them down at the same time. His palms start to sweat as he waits for his answer. His watch seems to slow down, the ticking more pronounced with longer pauses between.
“How could you forgive her but not me?” Puck looks up at him and Finn can’t look away. There’s something there, in his face, maybe even just in his eyes. Something different but he can’t figure out what it is. He scrunches up his nose and thinks. Things had changed after Quinn. Not necessarily in a bad way, they’d just been different. Maybe even stronger. Then that night he’d gone to Rachel’s and she’d been there. And somehow he’d just known. Like he could smell more than just the sex, sweat and hormones. He’d known that it had been Puck before he’d seen the marks on Rachel’s shoulder, dark red bruises made by Puck’s mouth on her skin. And even though it hurt him, somehow in the back of his mind he’d known that this was inevitable.
“I didn’t know what to say to you, Puck. I was really angry for a long time. You stole my girl twice, dude, was I supposed to throw you a party?” He inhales slowly, thinking carefully about what he wants to say now that he has the chance. “Then I was over it and you were gone.”
“I didn’t steal Quinn. And you and Rachel were –“
“You were gone, dude. You know, the first time I saw you in a magazine, I ripped out the picture and kept it. You wanna know what I thought seeing you there?” He steps closer to Puck, who stands up, with his fists bunched at his sides. “Thank God he’s alive.”
Puck’s eyes widen. Finn thinks he might be shocked, and doesn’t really understand why. “I kept collecting them, dude. Every time I saw you in something new, I cut it out and saved it. You’re the reason I wanted to be a model.”
Rachel stands up then, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly and smiles down at her. His girl always knows what he needs. He feels stronger with her there.
“Seriously?” Puck asks after a few moments and Finn turns to look at him.
He can’t say anything. He really doesn’t have the words right now, but Rachel nods her head. “We were both so proud of you, Noah,” she says quietly.
She leans forward and presses a kiss to Puck’s mouth, chaste and quiet, but something shifts. Her mouth is moving on Puck and her hand slides down Finn’s arm until their fingers link, and she pulls him closer. Then she backs off them entirely, and somehow Finn is hugging Puck and it’s just like that time when he fell off the swing when he was six, and Puck rushed over to see if he was okay, except there’s a lot less blood this time. He smells the spice of soap on Puck’s skin and buries his face in Puck’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
He didn’t really understand before this moment how much was really missing.
It feels really good right now. Holding his friend and being held. It’s a little bit like he’s being healed.
Eventually Puck grabs some beer from the fridge and all three of them try to work through the bottles and the years they’ve missed. They catch up, and it’s not awkward like it could have been, aside from the parts where Beth gets mentioned, but that was a bit expected. Puck talks about the Latina chick a little bit, saying that she’s his personal trainer. His exact words were something like, “chick is into physical torture like nobody else, but she gets results.”
When Rachel kicks off her shoes, Finn almost wishes she hadn’t. He wanted to fuck her at least once while she was wearing them.
At four o’clock She stacks her empty bottle beside the others on the coffee table and pulls Finn up off his chair. She kisses him and she tastes so good. Beer and Rachel have always been two of his favourite things, right after sex. He’s pretty sure that Puck can say the exact same thing. By the time he pulls away for air, he sees that Puck is watching them without blinking. Maybe his eyes are soft because of the booze, or because of the light, or maybe it’s something else.
Whatever it is, Finn is sure that Rachel is going to take advantage of it. He’s not surprised when she kisses Puck the same way, sliding her tongue past his lips. He feels heat pull from the base of his spine all the way around to where his pants are starting to feel tight.
“Remember when we were in high school,” Rachel whispers, “ and Mr. Schuester’s friend made us write down our dreams. Remember when we shared them?” She pulls Puck up off the couch and walks around so that Finn is standing right beside him. “Did you ever get what you always dreamed?” She’s so short, but still her breath manages to tickle the space along Finn’s neck (hot and wet and oh God, mailman!), and he’s sure that Puck is feeling it too. The heat of arousal and the giddiness of alcohol mixing as Rachel runs her hands down their arms until she has one of Finn’s hands and one of Puck’s. She walks them towards Puck’s bedroom.
***
Rachel isn’t in the bed when Finn wakes up, but she likes to wake up early, so it’s not a big deal. He’s used to it. What he’s not used to is the feeling of an arm draped over him that isn’t hers. Rough fingers trace little circles on his hip, and he twitches, heat gathering low in his abdomen. He opens his eyes slowly, taking in the shadow on Puck’s cheek, the twist to his lips, the reddish bruises on his neck and shoulders where either Finn or Rachel attached with a little too much force. Finn shivers with the anticipation of seeing similar bruises on his own body. He might even need to use the sheer foundation to cover-up the marks before his next shoot. The thought shouldn’t make him as happy as it does.
“Last night was totally dope, man.” Puck says as he inches forward so his nose brushes against Finn’s. It’s seriously like the most erotic thing that has ever happened between Finn and another dude. Ever.
“Yeah, it was,” he says, and brushes his lips over Puck’s until Puck opens his mouth and allows Finn’s tongue to slide inside. “Dude, your morning breath is rank. And you have to quit smoking. That shit is bad for your health. Plus Rachel kinda hates it.”
Puck doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then he settles his body direct on top of Finn’s. “Whatever. My morning breath is totally sexy.” Finn groans as he hears the coffee grinder coming from the kitchen. He’s not sure if it’s because he can feel Puck hard against his thigh, or because Puck’s tongue is doing wicked things to his mouth, or maybe a little bit is actually because coffee is awesome. But it doesn’t really matter.
When Puck’s hand wraps around him, and his mouth starts to slide down Finn’s jaw he doesn’t care at all.
“Should we wait for Rachel?” He says heavily as his body starts to really wake up under Puck’s hands.
Puck laughs and Finn supposes that’s answer enough.
***
When Rachel comes in five minutes later with three cups of coffee she sets them on the night stand and crawls onto the bed.
She can always reheat them later.
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However, I'm curious right out of the box, if the original incarnation of this fic was more crack-like and you just had to abandon that for the lovely reality here?
I'm really just curious. And dying to read the rest. Back ASAP!
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man. You rock bb!
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Puck/Finn is totally hot. And I love the idea of them being these totally vapid and conceited people and still NEEDING each other so much.
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment, bb! You're a sweetheart!
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I'm glad that the humour read well. I tried hard not to be intentionally funny, just true enough to the movie's self-centered theme.
Thank you so much for all of the lovely compliments! ♥
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Finn brings Rachel with him. Partly because she refuses to stay and wait for him at home and partly because she can navigate cabbies around late night New York traffic like no one else. She’s better than a Tom-Tom. No lie. And way prettier. And better at sex, ‘cause Tom-Tom is a tiny machine and machine’s can’t have sex, except for in Terminator 5. That movie was awesome.
is why I don't write Finn. It's just priceless, and I could never hit that. So great.
Also, in that same section--there's this:
“I... uh...” He can’t remember. Shit. Why did he and Rachel decide to come here again? more of a transition here. Oh yeah, because despite everything Finn misses
which I think has some writer's notes still in there--you might want to clean that up. :D
I'm at work and I keep getting a few minutes here and there to read. I'm going to have to go for a bit again now, but I'll be back! (Oh, and if you want to send me the other one, I'd love to read it tonight!)
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Yeahhhh... thanks for finding that one for me, C. I... missed it entire. (omg, my beta's gonna kill me) :D
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First, Sandy as Puck's agent is just great. I just rewatched the scene from Sheets N Things yesterday because I got my back 9 DVDs. I love Mr. Ryerson, and Puck's interaction with him.
Second, I'm not much on slash, you know, but I do like the way this flows--and their need for each other, esp. Puck and Finn, is very palpable. I mean, I was sort of like, who even needs Rachel? And I'm not usually like that. So you did something special there.
It's been years since I watched Zoolander, but there is a 3some in that, isn't there? I totally didn't get it until I pondered on it.
Puck's thoughts on the red carpet and during the awards ceremony are so great too. So shallow and self-involved, yet well deserved, as we all dwell on his attractiveness a bit too much. *g*
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I'm thrilled that you read the fic regardless of your slashy feelings. I was surprised at what happened in the fic too. Rachel became less and less important as time went on. Yeah, she was the catalyst for all of this, but then she just became an accessory. The story isn't really about the girl anyway. The girl is just a tool for these two male models to find a way to start up a Derek Zoolander Center For Kids who want to learn how to read good, and who want to learn to do other things good too. I didn't even get there.
There is an ORGY in the movie. Complete with midgets and a Tibetan Monk. No joke.
Anyway, I'm glad that you enjoyed the dynamic. :D Thank you for leaving such epic
fault findingcomments for me!seriously, I can't believe I missed that note. How embarrassing.no subject
The overall tone of this was really gorgeous. You know how much I like angst (and denial, oh boy) and you gave it in spades. I love how connected they all were to each other (and I'd love to know what Rachel's thinking during all of these scenes) even when they aren't even together.
I love this image so very much: Hours later, Finn wakes up to see that his hand and Rachel’s have both come to rest on top of the pictures he’s been secretly collecting for months now, and somehow it feel like something inside him heals. They're a triangle with only two parts, and it's so heartbreaking. ♥
LOL your ending scenes are absolutely killing me here, B. The ending to the next part is just as poignant: the bar is sticky with dried alcohol and drowning in memories of Lima, Ohio, Finn Hudson, and the girl who came between them.. It's just gorgeous.
I don't want to eat up your entire page here, but I hope you know how much I loved this fic. (A lot, in case you were wondering ♥)
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Ha, I don't know how much more love it's gonna get, but thank you so much for all your help and notes that I missed because I'm stupid or typos I missed because I'm lazy. Letters I missed because, well, let's just not get into this.
I'm so glad that you liked it because you're my second greatest critic (tied for second) so your opinion is super important to me.
I'm happy that the angst worked and the triangle aspect was clear. I tried hard to not let Rachel eclipse the relationship between Finn and Puck.
Anyway, I have no brain power right now, I just wanted to say how happy your comments make me. :D ♥
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Yay for new friends!!!! ♥