A/N: Drabble based on this prompt by cheapen from an LJ drabble meme: "She's covered in water and crazy, and that's the moment he realizes he's probably, definitely in love with her."
Puck was just settling in front of the television and saying silent thanks that he wasn't out in the pouring rain when his phone rang. He picked it up, aware without looking at the faceplate that it was Rachel because she'd programmed in her own special ring tone, and barely had time to say, "Hey, babe" before she was cutting him off, her voice panicked. "Noah, I need you to come to my house now. It's an emergency! Hurry!"
He broke seven laws getting to her house, and he didn't give a fuck about any of them(okay, so maybe he could have waited for that old lady to cross the street rather than gunning it and splashing her with water… but whatever, his girl was in trouble and it wasn't like he'd actually hit her or anything).
He didn't know when exactly it had happened, but somewhere along the line, Rachel had really started to matter. He didn't like how freaked out he was, knowing that in the five minutes it took for him to get to her, she could have been hurt. Helpless was not a good feeling. In fact, it sucked ass.
So he went over the curb and parked his truck half on her front lawn and half on the sidewalk, and barely stopped to turn off the engine before he was jumping out into the rain to see if she was, like, tied up in the house somewhere with a crazy knife-wielding Jewfro standing nearby ordering her to love him. (Even though he knew he scared the shit out of him, Puck had nightmares about that dude and his fixation with Rachel, okay?)
He burst in the unlocked front door, dripping a little on the clean floor, and started rushing through the house, yelling her name. He was searching the kitchen when he saw her through the window, standing out in the backyard while the rain poured down on her. She seemed to be alone, thank God.
Confused, he went to the side door and joined her in the backyard.
"What the fuck, Rach? What's wrong?"
She whirled toward his voice, her soaked hair flicking out from her face. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Noah! It's Fanny. She's out here somewhere, and I cannot convince her to get back inside."
Fanny. It took him a minute to realize she was talking about one of the damn chickens.
Puck knew Rachel couldn't get over her egging. He couldn't, either, but it was pure rage keeping him up at night, not vegan guilt over the souls of poor, innocent little chicks that would never get a chance to peep. It haunted her for months. So when his girlfriend announced that she was going to get chickens, he'd been only kind of surprised. He'd known she wanted to do something to "make reparations." He just hadn't known she'd be bat-shit crazy enough to legit buy chickens and make a home for them in her fucking backyard.
Sure, Rachel was an animal person—her sweaters and fucking annoying refusal to eat animal products made that clear enough. But these were chickens, not puppies. And his girl turning into loony farmer Rachel? So not happening. That body was made for ridiculously short skirts, not overalls.
He was pretty sure he'd kill himself if she started wearing overalls.
Since he hated anything that threatened his ability to touch and stare at Rachel's bare legs, he hated the chickens a little, but Rach didn't. She was determined to provide a safe, happy life to her new birds.
Seemed like that idea was currently in the shitter, hence her "emergency."
If he didn't think that this was it, that she'd finally lost her damn mind, he would have taken a bit more time to admire the way her clothes were pasted down against her body. He entertained a brief fantasy of her wearing nothing but body paint, like the really hot chicks in Sports Illustrated(with her body, Rach would totally make the cut), then remembered he was here for a reason.
Apparently, to take her to the insane asylum, because she was standing in the rain calling for a chicken.
Why the fuck were the hot girls all nuts? And just when he thought he'd started to get her particular brand of crazy.
"You called me here to help you find a chicken." He said the words slowly, like someone speaking to a child, and was rewarded by the quick narrowing of her eyes as she began to see what he was thinking about her. Namely, This woman is out of her fucking mind.
"No, Noah. I'm fairly certain I know where she is." Her gaze went to a large bush that lined the fence, and she bit her lip. "I need help apprehending her."
"Riiight. You're gettin' soaked, Rach."
"I realize that, Noah, but I can't leave her out here! She might get sick and die, and the last thing I need on my conscience is another soul."
She looked so damn sad at the memory, her liquid brown eyes all big and gorgeous, so he accepted that he was gonna get soaked, too, and probably muddy, and agreed to help.
Ten minutes later he had mud stains on his pants, leaves stuck to his clinging wet shirt, and two scratches from that damn bush on his forearms. But Rachel was closing the door to the chicken coop, and she came back to him with her hair plastered down and that mega-watt smile on her face that he just can't resist.
She's covered in water and crazy, and that's the moment he realizes he's probably, definitely in love with her.
"Thank you for coming and helping me, Noah," she said, wrapping her arms around him in a thank you hug. Their wet shirts squished together as her chest pressed against his, and despite the fact that he'd just been hit with reality like a two-by-four to the head, he was immediately turned on.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, his long fingers stroking the wet skin of her cheeks. He was acutely aware of each drop of water that ran down that face. "'S all right. Worth it."
She beamed up at him and started tugging him back toward the house, happy that he wasn't angry with her, and that she wouldn't have any more blood on her hands. "You're right, though."
He went inside after her, closing the door with a thud. "'Bout what?"
"We're soaked, and if we aren't careful we could get sick. Staying in these clothes would be irresponsible, don't you think?" The smile she sent him over her shoulder before she left, headed for her bedroom, made his heart race.
"Absolutely." Fuck, yeah. No wonder he loved this girl.