Title: The Tenth Time
Rating: R, for Puck's mouth
Summery: Prompt from the puckrachel drabble meme, part 2: During her four years of college, Rachel moves nine times. Puck is recruited to help every single time.
Puck dropped a box full of scripts or scores or some musical theater shit on top of a box that he was pretty sure was full of fucking unicorns and glared at the girl in the middle of the mess.
"What the fuck, Rachel?" He gestured around the room in annoyance. "This is the ninth fucking time I've had to help you move your shit. Sure, you're annoying as hell, but what the fuck are you doing to your roommates?"
Rachel sniffed, "I'm sure I have no idea what you could possibly be insinuating, Noah." She busied herself unpacking a bright pink suitcase full of..holy shit, were those costumes?
Puck grimaced. He couldn't take much more of this. It was bad enough they ended up in the same city. It was worse that they had somehow become friends, of some freakish sort. If by "friends," you meant they had breakfast at the same coffee shop most mornings, sitting at the same table, with him talking about interesting shit like sports and video games, and her talking over him about her inevitable stardom. But this was fucked up.
Nine fucking times of carting her crap from one shitty apartment to another with her neverending stream of talk about how important a healthy environment was to her development and how difficult it was to be so talented and persecuted and fuck, he was going to stab an icepick through his ear if he had to do it it again.
The first time was only two weeks into her freshman year. Her roommate was "completely unable to tolerate vocal exercises at the perfectly reasonable hour of 7 am."
Two and three went by pretty fast. He didn't really remember why for either of them, but he did remember that three had worn really tight shirts and no bra. The Puckerone approved.
The fourth roommate lasted a little longer - made it through Channakuh of sophomore year, anyway, before Rachel had stormed into his apartment (really freaking out the hot chick he had been trying to get out of her shirt - and when the hell did Rachel get a key, anyway?) gesturing wildly about how unacceptable it was to touch someone else's important things, and by the time she calmed the fuck down, the hot chick was leaving in a pissy mood, and he had figured out that number four had dared lay finger on Rachel's autographed score for Phantom of the Opera and tried to sell it on ebay.
Well, all right, Puck could give her that one. If somebody had tried to sell any of his shit on ebay, shit would be coming down.
Five and six had gone through her stuff, seven was a creeper who liked to watch her sleep, and eight? Fuck if he knew about eight. Rachel's mouth was zipped about that - which was hilarious, because the chick would talk about anything to fucking death if you gave her half a chance.
Puck snorted at her and dumped another box on the pile. Why the fuck did he keep getting roped into this, anyway? Sure, he had a truck, and yeah, she had her own ringtone on his phone, and maybe they talked a couple of times a day, but didn't she have anybody else to annoy?
He was so busy trying not to trip over Rachel's collection of music boxes that he barely even registered the new roommate asking Rachel if her boyfriend was always this pissy.
Boyfriend? Aw, shit.